


Her Side of the Mountain

by KellySandrays



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, I guess cell phones don’t either, Mutual Pining, Nicole swings an axe, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Willa doesn’t exist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-08 06:17:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21471409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KellySandrays/pseuds/KellySandrays
Summary: Waverly Earp leaves everything behind to live off the land at the mountain homestead of Wyatt Earp, where she seeks to understand both the mystery of the Earp curse...and her growing attraction to Nicole Haught.
Relationships: Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught
Comments: 167
Kudos: 558





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The scenario of this fic is loosely inspired by a book I adored as a kid, My Side of the Mountain by Jean Craighead George. But a big focus here too is the developing relationship between Waverly and Nicole, who begin this story as friendly acquaintances, while Wynonna is still in Greece (I basically took the canon timeline and put it in a blender).

Fog hovered thickly over Gus and Curtis’s farm, the shaggy lawn wet with the dew of a humid late-summer morning, when Waverly slowly eased the front door shut. The wood stuck, creaked a bit, and she had to tug until she felt the latch click into place. She stood there on the porch, head cocked and listening, but the house was silent. Through the window, she could see her tea mug and plate stacked neatly on the drying rack, and the envelope addressed to Aunt Gus waiting on the round kitchen table.

Even though she soon wouldn’t have any use for it, Waverly nicked Wynonna’s old bike from the shed, knowing no one would miss the rusty green Schwinn. Wynonna had been gone for years--in Greece, last Waverly had heard. She swung her leg over the bike and bumped the kickstand out of the way with her heel. The bike would surely be too small now for Wynonna, who used it as a teenager after she got her driver’s license taken away, but it fit Waverly’s petite frame nicely, and the tires felt solid still from when Waverly added air to them earlier in the week.

Mist dampened her hair, curling the honey-brown tendrils that had fallen loose from her ponytail. Waverly biked as quickly as she could, her tires skidding on the loose gravel as she rounded the end of the driveway onto the long empty road that would lead her into Purgatory. Though it was much earlier than Waverly was used to waking up, what with her late shifts at Shorty’s, she felt clear-headed and bright, and a wave of fondness rolled over her as the town came into view through the fog. She passed the high school, Shorty’s Saloon, the sheriff’s station. She pedaled faster, the straps of her hiking backpack burning into her shoulders, and her thighs beginning to ache.

The backpack held more than she really needed, but Waverly liked to be prepared. Contingencies upon contingencies. Because if she couldn’t work the flint and steel she’d need the matches, and if she ran out of matches she’d need the mylar blanket, and on and on.

She reached the end of Main Street, then the end of the residential streets, then the end of the junkyard and the abandoned trailer park and the hulking water treatment plant. Her shoulders stopped burning and simply went numb.

At the foothills of the Ghost River Mountains where the hiking trails began, there was a small parking lot with only six stalls--they didn’t get many tourists in Purgatory. Waverly slowly braked to a stop and climbed off, careful of her balance with all her gear. She leaned the bike against the post of an information board, and unscrewed the top of her canteen, taking a long drink of the icy cold water as she studied a warning notice about bears that was tacked to the board. The number-one tip was to never enter the mountains in groups of fewer than six. But Waverly was, of course, prepared with bear bells and bear spray hooked on the outer loops of her pack.

Waverly studied the laminated map on the information board, following the line of the Ghost River. On the Eastern side of the map was a blank area, noted simply as pine forest. But it was there that Waverly knew she would find her family’s homestead, built by her great-great-granddaddy, Wyatt Earp.

***

Nicole Haught was sitting at the reception desk of the sheriff’s office, barely staying awake over her paperwork and gas-station cappuccino, when Waverly Earp biked past. That girl would catch Nicole’s eye any day, but on this morning in particular, Nicole was intrigued enough to stand up and hurry to the large window that overlooked Main Street. Waverly was biking fast, her jaw set and eyes narrowed against the mist. That in itself wasn’t unusual--Nicole didn’t know Waverly well, but the determined look on her face was one Nicole was already familiar with. But what caught Nicole’s attention, what had her stepping out onto the sidewalk and watching Waverly’s back until she faded from view, was the insanely oversized backpack she carried. It looked almost comical on Waverly’s small frame; a large water bottle and what looked like a can of bug spray dangling from the straps on carabiners, a rolled blanket strapped to the top. And was that--Nicole squinted--an axe? Nicole shook her head fondly and went back inside to her desk, the bells on the door jingling lightly behind her.

Nicole took another gulp of her cappuccino, making a face at the brown liquid that glistened with syrup and had begun to go cold. Sheriff Nedley kept a stash of Folgers Instant in the station’s small kitchen, but the cappuccinos Nicole got at the TravelMart were better. Marginally.

It reminded Nicole of the first time she’d spoken to Waverly, about a month ago. She had stopped at Shorty’s on a whim, thinking there was a chance they might have cappuccinos a step up from the gas station’s, since the only diner in town was closed for renovations. Well, okay, it was mostly an excuse to introduce herself to Waverly, whom she’d seen a few times outside the station, chatting with Sheriff Nedley’s daughter, and another time at Shorty’s when Nicole had made her very first arrest, dragging a man out for drunk and disorderly conduct, and Waverly was working at the bar. Waverly was pretty--all right, Nicole thought, as she doodled absently on a manila folder, only the prettiest girl she’d ever seen in her life--but what Nicole really couldn’t stop thinking about was her smile, the way it lit up her entire face; the way her eyes sparkled...

Nicole sat up with a start when Sheriff Nedley burst through the door, dragging behind him a disheveled man who was keeping up a steady stream of swearing and insults. The man’s greasy, dirty hair hung ragged over his eyes, and his head was bowed as he struggled to right himself and stop Nedley from dragging him across the floor.

“Is that--” at the sound of Nicole’s voice, Nedley stopped in his tracks, as if surprised to find her already at the station. “Is that Carl?”

Carl, or “Stupid Carl,” as Nicole often referred to him under her breath, had been in and out of trouble over the past few weeks, brought into the station for petty theft and drunk & disorderly on a few occasions, and pulled over twice by Nicole herself for traffic violations.

“Sure is,” Nedley said gruffly. “Trespassing. That’s a new one, eh Carl?”

“I weren’t trespassing,” protested Carl, “I was just goin’ to see Bobo.” He twisted himself with a grunt, trying to pull his beefy, handcuffed arms free from the grips of the sheriff. Nicole flinched slightly, glad to have the big reception desk in front of her. She wasn’t scared of most of the men in this town--they were generally good guys who just had too much to drink now and then--but something about Carl unsettled her.

“Tellin’ me you’re gonna see Bobo ain’t a point in your favor, son,” Nedley muttered. “C’mon now.” Nicole saw that they were heading for the holding cell, and rushed over to hold the door. Carl’s dark eyes met hers for a moment, and she looked away. “Bitch,” he spat out, as they passed her.

***

“Well, what the shit?” Waverly said out loud in exasperation, dropping her pack in the weeds beside her feet with a heavy thud. A gray jay tittered cheerfully in response from a nearby pine. She should have found the old logging road by now; she remembered it running parallel and close to the Ghost River. She reached up to redo her ponytail, turning in a slow circle as she did so. Breathing out slowly, she tried to ignore the swell of anxiety for a moment and appreciate her surroundings. The Ghost Mountains were thick with tall trees, with berry brambles and wildflowers carpeting the ground beneath them. Waverly closed her eyes, inhaling the fresh, piney scent, and tried to mentally retrace her steps from fifteen years ago, playing in these woods with Wynonna.

She remembered riding her bike across an old wooden bridge on the logging road, yelling for Wynonna to wait for her, her training wheels making a satisfying thump-thump-thump over the boards, and it hit her--the road must be on the other side of the river from where she’d guessed.

Heaving her pack onto her shoulders again, Waverly walked back toward the river, reaching behind her to pull a bag of trail mix from a side pocket and pop a small handful into her mouth, not wanting to stop to rummage through her stuff for a more filling lunch. She made a mental note of the blackberry bushes she saw in the undergrowth of the trees. Maybe she could come back later and pick some, assuming she could get to them before the bears did.

The Ghost River was hardly formidable on this part of the mountain, but it was still too wide for Waverly to hop across. It was shallow, though, and rocky, so Waverly kicked off her shoes and tied the laces onto her backpack, then rolled up her jeans so she could wade across. The mountain-spring water was shockingly cold, and Waverly shivered as she quickly picked her way across, her feet slipping slightly on the smooth, algaed rocks.

Once she’d crossed the river, it didn’t take Waverly long to find the abandoned logging road. It had always been made of gravel, never paved, and now had thistles and brambles growing all over. Logging had long since stopped in this area, even before Waverly was a kid here. But despite the overgrowth, the hiking was easier here than on the muddy trails.

The homestead was well away from the areas that backpackers frequented, so that--well, plus the pesky local rumor of a curse on the Earp family, no big deal--meant it had remained untouched for years. And so when she finally saw the house through a clearing in the forest, looking small, dark, and unassuming with boarded-up windows, Waverly almost felt guilty. It felt like she was intruding somehow, wakening spirits--or at least memories--that were better left undisturbed.

***

Later that day, Nicole was gathering up her things to head out for speed-trap duty when the door jingled and Chrissy Nedley walked in. The brunette barely glanced at Nicole, tossing a “hey” over her shoulder as she marched right into her dad’s office. Nicole just shook her head and went back to arranging her outfit for patrol, clipping her flashlight onto her belt and holstering her gun. Chrissy was friendly enough, and usually said hello to Nicole when she stopped by the station...but never went out of her way to chat. It would’ve been nice, Nicole mused, to have a friend or two her age in town. But Nicole was also comfortable in her own skin, in her own space, and didn’t often feel lonely despite her newness in town. She kept herself busy at the little house she rented, chopping wood and tending a small garden of veggies, and finally making a dent in the tall stack of novels she’d been intending to read ever since she enrolled in the academy, and hadn’t had the time for until now. Still, she wouldn’t mind being asked out for a few drinks and a game of pool every now and then. Especially at Shorty’s, with a certain bartender working the counter…

And speaking of that bartender, Nicole was jerked out of her daydream by the mention of Waverly’s name. In her dad’s office, the door cracked ajar, Chrissy was telling Nedley something about Waverly’s Aunt Gus.

“...so Gus called me to ask if I’d talked to her. Waves took off this morning, I guess--left her a note. Gus said she wasn’t really worried but wondered what had gotten into her.”

Nicole paused for a moment, but decided the open door was an acceptable excuse for her eavesdropping. She knocked gently on Nedley’s doorframe, and the sheriff and his daughter both turned to look at her expectantly.

“Sorry, er...couldn’t help but overhear; are you guys looking for Waverly?” She leaned against the wall, trying to be casual.

Chrissy regarded her for a moment. “Yeah...well, sort of. I was just telling my dad that her aunt said she took off for their old homestead and didn’t want anyone to come after her. It’s just weird.”

Nicole opened her mouth to say that she’d seen Waverly that morning, then stopped herself. “Why didn’t she want anyone to come after her? And where’s their old homestead?”

Chrissy shrugged and perched on the corner of her dad’s desk. Nedley cleared his throat. “The old Earp place is at the edge of the mountains west of town. Nobody’s lived there for years. Probably doesn’t have water or electricity...nothing.”

Nicole frowned. “And...why would Waverly go there? Did she get in a fight with her aunt and uncle or something?” Nicole wasn’t exactly sure why Waverly’s parents weren’t in the picture, but she knew she lived with her aunt and uncle at their farm.

Nedley ran a hand through his hair, took a swig of coffee. Chrissy fiddled with a Scotch tape dispenser. Nicole wondered why they were being so cagey.

“Don’t think so. But Waverly...she’s had an unusual childhood. Lot going on underneath that sunny personality.”

Nicole straightened up. She knew that people whispered about the Earps, but from what she’d gathered so far, it was because Waverly’s estranged older sister used to cause trouble around town all the time. Delinquent-type stuff. She wondered what else there was to that history. “Well...I could go out and do a welfare check?”

Nedley and his daughter glanced at each other. “I dunno, Nicole. I think Waves just needs some space, is all,” Chrissy said.

“So she didn’t call you, Chrissy?” Nedley asked. Chrissy shook her head. “All right then," continued Nedley, “Let’s give her till tomorrow. Sounds like she just wanted to get out from under Gus and Curtis’s thumb for a bit. They watch that girl awful close.”

Nicole fiddled with her ticket pad, uncertain. “Well...if you say so. I’ll head out on patrol, then. Could you...would you radio me if Waverly comes back, though? Just so I don’t worry.”

Chrissy rolled her eyes. “Sure, Haught. Waves can take care of herself, though.”

Nicole nodded. “I know she can.”

***

Waverly definitely could take care of herself. If only she could get this damn door open.

She was kneeling on the front stoop, rummaging through her pack and throwing tools and meal packets haphazardly around her on the porch, swearing at each item that wasn’t the little black pouch she was looking for. “Aha!” finally, triumphantly, her fingers closed around it. “Right at the bottom...frickin’ figures.” Waverly shoved her pack to the side and opened the small pouch. Inside were several long, sharp tools--lockpicking tools. She’d found them in Wynonna’s room once and threatened to tell Curtis, and Wynonna swore her to secrecy and then showed her how to use them. Sometimes having a troublemaker older sister had its advantages.

Once she found the right tool, she got the homestead door open easily. Waverly quickly shoved all her stuff back into her pack, and threw it over her shoulder. She stepped inside hesitantly, pulling the door closed behind her. It was quiet--the homestead was in a clearing, so she was too far out of the trees to hear birds anymore. She was glad it was still the afternoon--this place had been eerie at night even when her family was all together. It was dark inside, though, and smelled of dust and stale air, with a hint of something familiar too. Sunlight filtered through the thin gaps in the window boards, illuminating the kitchen counters and dining table, all bare. No jars of sugar or flour on the counters. No broken crayons and half-filled coloring books on the dining table.

The window just beside the door was broken, the jagged glass still jutting out from the edges of its frame. It had been boarded from the outside. Waverly stood and looked at it for a moment, then turned away. She set her backpack down on a dining chair and tried the kitchen faucet. Nothing. But then, she’d expected that. She’d have to use the old pump out back, assuming that worked. Either that or she’d be hauling buckets down to the river every day. There was an outhouse, too. And she’d brought flashlights and candles. She could handle staying here without electricity or running water. After all, Wyatt had.

Waverly brought her pack over to the living room and set it down on the floor. She laid out her bedroll, and set the axe next to it, knowing she’d sleep with one hand on it in case she heard any strange noises during the night. She pulled out her snack packs and meal kits, stacking them neatly on the old oak coffee table. She’d already decided to stick to the living room tonight--she wasn’t quite ready to explore her old bedroom or those of her parents or sister. Maybe tomorrow, in the morning. She pulled candles out of her pack and lined them up neatly in the empty fireplace. It was too hot for a fire, but the candlelight would be welcome once twilight came. And finally, she pulled from her pack the small leather-bound notebooks that had belonged to her daddy, Ward Earp.

The next few hours were spent re-reading notes she had gone over so many times they were almost memorized. The names of the 77 revenants. Ward’s sketches of Peacemaker and the symbols that were carved on its barrel. There was so much Waverly needed to learn, and to find. She hoped the homestead would be the key to all that. She wrote in her own journal too, about finding the homestead, and made lists of what to do over the next few days. She planned to be there for a while, so in addition to her research, she’d need to make the homestead liveable. She knew she’d need to go back into Purgatory for more supplies, and soon. But she wasn’t quite sure how to do that without a confrontation with Gus and Curtis. She knew they weren’t likely to follow her up here to the homestead, but if they caught wind of her back in town, they’d try to talk her out of her plan.

But for now, she needed to eat. She wondered how Gus and Curtis were doing, back at their farm. Gus was probably making salad with tomatoes fresh from their garden. Or Waverly’s favorite, marinated portobellos on the grill.

She opened up a pouch of seitan jerky along with her trail mix. Realistically, Waverly knew she’d have to start eating meat again eventually if she was going to manage on her own out here--fish from the river, at least, and maybe small game. Her father had taught his girls how to live off the land--surely she’d remember some of his tips despite the years that had passed--and maybe she’d feel less guilty about eating animals if she knew she was treating them humanely and taking only what she needed. Still, she’d hold onto her veganism for at least a few more days if she could.

When she’d finished her small meal, Waverly made a trip to the outhouse, which was in surprisingly good condition despite all the weeds that had grown up around it. Then she dragged a heavy chair from the living room to balance under the front door knob so no one could open it, and retreated back to the living room. Once she’d lit a candle in the fireplace and settled down into her sleeping mat, she stretched her sore muscles and tried to focus on her breathing and relax. She was thankful, now, for all the hiking that day. Thankful that her eyes were already starting to close. She could ignore the ghosts for tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connect with me on Twitter: @ksandrays


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I wanted to clarify a few things that might've been confusing in chapter one. First: the homestead is basically the same as what's on the TV show--just imagine that I picked it up and plunked it down on a mountainside. 
> 
> Waverly and Nicole are around the same ages as they were at the start of season one. I just delayed Wynonna's return, and moved her birthday to the upcoming spring. 
> 
> Also, the "ghosts" mentioned at the end of chapter one were meant to be metaphorical. The revenants are the only supernatural beings here.

Early morning was Nicole’s favorite time of day. Especially, of course, when she didn’t have to work. Lonnie, the chief deputy, was back from a brief vacation from his family, and James, who’d started a little while after Nicole, was on duty too, so she had her first full day off in two weeks. She sat on the front steps of her little house, enjoying the quiet sounds of the birds waking up, and neighbors starting cars to head out to work at the feed mill or the little shops on Main Street. She waved to elderly Mr. Carver when he shuffled out in his ragged old bathrobe to retrieve the paper. And she wondered about Waverly. 

Nicole was so tempted to follow the long road where she’d seen Waverly biking, to find her in the woods and ask her what was wrong. Not because she thought Waverly couldn’t handle herself. She could more than hold her own against the drunks at Shorty’s. But because the girl intrigued her. And because she cared about why someone would run off to the mountains. She’d have been just as curious, she told herself, about why anyone would. 

Nicole decided to swing by the McCready farm. Chances were good Waverly was back, anyway. But if she wasn’t back, well, Chrissy had been concerned about Waverly at the station. Nicole was just doing her duty as deputy, checking up on the well-being of a citizen. 

She washed and dried her breakfast dishes, then dressed slowly, wanting to give Curtis and Gus and bit more time to start their day before she appeared on their doorstep. She chose cutoff jeans and a blue tank, then layered on a light hoodie for the cool morning. She ran wet fingers through her auburn hair to bring out the curls, then laced up her Chuck Taylors and headed out. 

Nicole felt a bit sheepish pulling up to the McCready place in her squad car, but she didn’t have a vehicle of her own and Nedley didn’t mind if she used the cruiser for her own errands. She didn’t want to worry Gus and Curtis, though, knowing they were probably already fretting about Waverly, so she parked near the end of the lane and walked the rest of the way to the farmhouse.

Gus must’ve had an eye on the window already, because she opened the door before Nicole could even knock. “Deputy Haught,” she said, wiping her hands on a dishtowel, concern in her eyes. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes, ma’am, totally fine,” Nicole reassured with a smile. “I just wanted to check in with you because Chrissy Nedley mentioned yesterday that you were concerned about Waverly.” 

At Gus’s look of hesitation, Nicole hurried to add, “I’m not, um...not here officially.” She glanced down at her tank and shorts. “It’s just that Waverly’s always been super nice to me when I’ve seen her around town, and I wanted to make sure she’s okay.” 

At that, Gus nodded and stepped aside, gestured for Nicole to enter the house and join her at the round kitchen table by the window. “Care for some coffee?” she asked over her shoulder, heading to the cabinet to pull out two mugs. 

“That sounds great, thanks. Cream and sugar if you have it.” Nicole took a seat at the table. A vase of fresh daisies sat on a doily in the center of the table, and the kitchen was clean and sunny. 

When Gus set a steaming mug of coffee in front of her and sat down in one of the other two chairs, Nicole ventured, “So, I was just a little worried because Chrissy said Waverly took off for an old homestead in the mountains, that doesn’t have electricity or anything. Is that true?”

Gus nodded, and took a sip from her own mug. “Honestly didn’t think she’d ever go back there, but that’s what her letter said.”

Gus didn’t offer to share the letter, so Nicole didn’t ask. “But...why do you think she did that? Is she all right?”

“Oh, something to do with Wynonna, I’m sure.” Gus narrowed her eyes. “Waverly was asking me about her just the other day, about whether I had any way of getting in touch with her.” 

“Wynonna is Waverly’s sister, right? But she doesn’t live in town?” Nicole asked. 

Gus shifted in her chair. “Wynonna is...well, she’s a bad influence for Waverly. I do know that girl loves her, but it’s for the best that she’s gone. Wynonna was nothing but trouble; barely graduated. Waverly’s been a good student, head cheerleader, graduated with honors.”

“But why would she go up to the mountains? Do you think Wynonna’s staying up there?”

Gus shook her head. “No way. Wynonna’s still in Greece. I took out a credit card for her--not much of a balance on it, but between you and me, it lets me keep tabs on her. Some charges came through just this morning, in fact.” 

Nicole nodded. “So what’s this homestead?”

Gus got up from the table, topped off her coffee. She stood looking out the window over the kitchen sink for a moment before she turned back to Nicole. “That’s where the girls grew up. Their mom was my sister, and she and her husband Ward lived out at that homestead with them. Been in the Earp family for generations. Then Michelle took off after Waverly was born, and Ward died when she was six and Wynonna was twelve. The girls had been here with us since. Any more’n that’ll have to come from Waverly. Not my place to share her business.”

Nicole nodded. “Of course, Mrs. McCready. Do you think she’s okay out there, though? Should someone go check on her?”

Gus smiled. “Y'know, Officer Haught, Sheriff Nedley has told me a lot about you. I know he really admires how well you’ve taken to the job here in Purgatory. And I can tell you care about Waverly. You’re not like most of this town--they may love her, but they love gossip more. I do think if anyone could help Waverly with whatever she’s going through, it might be you. But that girl might just want to spread her wings a bit, too. I told Curtis maybe it’s time we let her.”

Nicole nodded. “I’ll think about that. Just...where would I find the homestead? If she doesn’t come back in a day or two, that is?”

“I’ll draw you a map,” said Gus.

***

Waverly had a quick breakfast of dried apricots and an energy bar. The morning sun was streaming through the windows now that she’d pried the boards off with a crowbar, and Waverly finally felt ready to explore the rest of the house. It was mostly devoid of furniture, save the dining table and two roughly hewn pine chairs. The living room was bare, and mildew had spread under a window where rainwater got through a crack in the window. The main-floor bathroom was dusty, and none of the plumbing worked there either, of course. Consciously focusing on the main floor for now, Waverly found a broom and some old towels in a hallway closet, and set to work sweeping the wooden floor and wiping the dust and grime from counters and windows. The pump behind the house had run clear, cool water after creaking and sputtering at first, and Waverly had filled a pail to dip her rags in and clean the windows.

She hummed as she worked, happy to be doing something productive despite the humidity that started to creep into the house, beading sweat on her forehead and making her strip down to a sports bra and boyshorts, her thick hair pulled back in a messy bun to keep it from sticking to her neck and back. She found old sheer flowered curtains folded neatly in a kitchen drawer, and hung them on the windows. And finally, once she’d swept and scrubbed and dusted all she could, she decided to tackle the upstairs.

She needn’t have worried so much, because it was so unfamiliar to her up there that it might as well have been some other family’s house entirely. The bedrooms were small and empty. She supposed Gus and Curtis had come through and packed up all of her and Wynonna’s things, and those of her parents, too. There were a few discolored rectangles on the wallpaper where photos or paintings had hung, but no clothes in the closets or knickknacks on the shelves. 

Waverly set to work cleaning those rooms too, focusing her mind on the scritching of the broom across the wood floor, the squeak of her washcloth across the windowpane. When she was finished, she went back downstairs and out to the pump, lifting and pushing the hot red metal handle until the cool water began to flow. She splashed some on her face and the back of her neck, and took a long, long drink. There was still so much more to do--cleaning, repairing, making it a home. But there would be enough time.

***

After her visit to the McCready farm, Nicole took advantage of her off-duty day to do her laundry and go for a light jog. At lunchtime, she decided to head into town. She was craving a black-bean burger from Shorty’s, even though it wouldn’t be the same without Waverly smiling at her from across the bar or adding a squeeze of lemon to her ice water and extra fries to her plate. She settled into a booth that was positioned near the door but also gave her a good view of the whole seating area. Not many patrons were around today, just a couple older guys at the bar, where Shorty was wiping glasses dry.

Once Nicole had ordered her burger and a mug of root beer, she opened up an outdoor-gear catalog and began to page through it. She was itching to get back out climbing again, and hadn’t gone since moving to Purgatory. And even before that, she had been so busy with the academy and training. But she knew that the areas around Purgatory had loads of great places to go climbing. She’d grown up only an hour or so away, and had gone camping in the Ghost River Mountains several times as a kid. 

Nicole skimmed through pages of specialty shoes and gloves, dog-earing the ones that were in her price range. She wondered if there were any climbing or backpacking groups in the area. As comfortable as Nicole was in her own company, it would be good to make some friends.

A group of a half-dozen or so men entered Shorty’s then, talking and laughing loudly. As they passed Nicole’s table, she could see in her periphery that a couple of them looked her up and down, which she tried to ignore as she focused more intently on her catalog. If there was one time when she really, really did not want to deal with the men of Purgatory, it was her day off. 

The men settled into the booth next to her, and Nicole was mostly able to tune out their rowdy conversation about cars, deer hunting, and parties at the trailer park, and enjoy her burger and fries. But then one of the men said something that was like a bucket of ice water thrown on her. 

“So what’s the latest on the Earp bitch? Do we know where she is?”

“Not supposed to be back until next year, but who knows.”

“Well, we gotta be ready. Bobo wants to know first thing when she’s back.”

They stopped their discussion there, when the waitress brought their food over, and then moved on to other topics. But Nicole sat staring at her plate, unable to take another bite. Did the men mean Waverly, or Wynonna? As far as she knew, they were the only two Earps. Either way, she needed to find Waverly and tell her what she’d heard.

Nicole debated confronting the men to ask what they’d meant. But she was off-duty; just a girl to them. And she knew from dealing with some of his associates that anything connected to Bobo Del Rey was bad news. She decided instead to carry her dishes to the bar, so that she could get a description of the men on the way back to her table. She wanted to be able to give Waverly as much information as possible.

***

After she ate lunch, Waverly took stock of the supplies she had packed and realized that her food was starting to run low. She’d intended to make a trip back into town for more, but realized she wasn’t quite ready for that. She was rather starting to enjoy her solitude on the homestead. But that meant she’d need to supplement her food.

Waverly went out behind the house to the cellar; a small mound of grass in the backyard that had a heavy wooden door on it. She’d only gone down there once as a kid that she could remember; Ward had taken her and Wynonna down there during a particularly wicked thunderstorm. Jars of pickled vegetables had lined the wooden shelves on the plaster walls, and there had been a case of A&W root beer on the cold cement floor. She and Wynonna got to split a can. 

Now, the walls and floor were bare, but there were some buckets and boxes stacked neatly in a corner. Waverly chose two large buckets with handles, and took them back up the cellar steps to rinse them at the pump. 

She grabbed a few things from her backpack and doused herself with mosquito spray, then followed the logging road away from the cabin the same way she’d hiked up.

The afternoon was hot and sticky, and Waverly wiped away the sweat from her forehead every few minutes with an old bandanna she’d tied around her wrist. It didn’t take her long to find the blackberry bushes she’d noticed on her way to the homestead--there was a thick patch of them among the aspens near the Ghost River.

Waverly worked quickly, humming to herself as she pulled the black caps off the berry bushes and dropped them into her pails with soft plunks. She ate about every third berry she picked; they were flavorful and juicy, staining her fingertips purple. She managed to avoid the thorns, mostly, only scraping her thumb against one once. Mosquitoes hovered around her, but the repellant kept them at bay. 

Pausing to wipe the sweat from her face, Waverly realized the woods were quiet. Gone was the background hum of cicadas and birdsong. She thought she heard the leaves rustling oddly, so she slowly set her berry pails on the ground beside her, and closed her hand around the metal canister at her waist, unclipping it from her belt. “Hello?” she said softly. Then louder, “Whoever you are, I’ve got a big-ass gun!” Not true, but what did they know. 

She heard the snap of a twig from behind her and whirled around. And just as she heard a woman’s voice say “Hey, Wave—” she was pushing down on the top of the canister before she could stop herself. 

“Oh, what the hell! Shit, shit, shit!” came the voice, just as Waverly got a glimpse of auburn curls and yelled “Oh my god, ohhhhhh no.”

Waverly rushed over to where Nicole had collapsed in a fetal position on the ground, pushing the heels of her palms against her eyes and groaning. “Waverly, what the hell?”

“God, Nicole, I thought you were a bear! Or, or, some horrible guy coming after me to do God knows what! Shit, are you okay?”

Nicole just groaned, and Waverly swore again and picked up the canister she’d dropped in the dirt, turning it to find the directions on the back.

“Okay, shit, sorry, that was pepper spray. It says to flush your eyes with water. Come on, let me help you up.”

Nicole struggled to her feet, squinting through red, watery eyes. “Jeez, Waverly, this stuff burns.”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry. Come on.” Waverly looped Nicole’s arm over her shoulder and guided her back to the logging road, her berry pails strewn and forgotten among the bushes. She walked quickly, which wasn’t easy, because Nicole was leaning heavily against Waverly even though the redhead was so much taller. 

When they reached the homestead, Nicole seemed to be improving already, though her eyes were still squinted and red. Waverly led her to the pump and got the water started, so Nicole could tip her head under the cool stream and wash the pepper spray away from her eyes. 

“Are you okay now?” Waverly asked sympathetically, once Nicole had wiped her face with a towel.

Nicole nodded, and Waverly was relieved to see a slow smile spread across her face. “Guess I should’ve made more noise coming up the hill.”

Waverly laughed. “I was already convinced the bears would get to those berries before I could. Thought you were one of ’em. Want to come inside?”

Nicole nodded, and followed Waverly in the back door. A light breeze had picked up and was fluttering the curtains around the windows Waverly had opened that morning. Sunlight streamed in across the newly cleaned countertops and floors, and the place would have been almost homey if not for the lack of rugs, pictures, and furniture. 

“So this is your old house,” Nicole said softly, looking around.

Waverly raised an eyebrow. “It is. How did you know where to find me? Did Gus send you?”

Nicole met her eyes. Waverly didn’t look angry--just, resigned, almost. “She didn’t,” said Nicole. “Well, she told me where to find the homestead, but I’m not here because of her. I think she’s giving you space. I was just...worried.” Nicole felt a little silly now, seeing that Waverly was doing just fine here and was clearly ready and willing to defend herself from trespassers.

Waverly softened. “You were?” She led Nicole over to the living room and gestured for her to take a seat on the neatly folded bedroll. Waverly sat next to her, cross-legged on the floor. “That’s nice of you to think of me. I wasn’t sure anyone would miss me around town. Well, except maybe Chrissy.” 

Nicole nodded. “Yeah, Chrissy was at the station yesterday telling her dad that you’d taken off. But she knew you’d left a note for Gus.” 

“Yeah,” Waverly said. “I just needed some space to think. I’ve been doing some research, and it was so hard to focus on it at Gus and Curtis’s place.” 

Nicole tilted her head. “What kind of research?”

Waverly gestured vaguely. “Just family stuff. It’s boring. ...Why were you worried about me?” 

Nicole paused, unsure now whether to bring up what she’d heard at Shorty’s. But she decided she’d want to know, if she were Waverly. 

She filled Waverly in on what she’d heard and saw, which wasn’t much, really. She didn’t know the men’s names but described them in detail, and Waverly thought she knew who a couple of them were. “All friends of Bobo’s, yeah. They come into Shorty’s pretty often. They’re jerks.” She chuckled. “And they don’t tip well.”

“You don’t seem too worried,” Nicole observed. 

“I guess I’m just...not surprised.” Waverly regarded Nicole thoughtfully, biting her lip as if deciding something. “Can I show you what I’ve been working on?” 

She led Nicole over to where she kept her notes and Ward’s journals. Waverly had never shown them to anyone else. But even though she’d only known Nicole in passing for a couple of months, she considered herself an excellent judge of character. And she trusted Nicole Haught. 

***

If you’d told Nicole three months ago that the great-great-grandchildren of the gunslinger Wyatt Earp were cursed to send his revenant kills back to hell, well, she’d have thought you were nuts. Nicole was practical and level-headed, and hadn’t believed in ghosts since she was a kid. But she knew that there was something weird about Purgatory. And she trusted Waverly Earp.


	3. Chapter 3

“So the men at Shorty’s were…”

“Revenants. Probably.” Waverly nodded. “At least, that’s my theory. I’ve noticed that a few of those guys, the ones who hang out at Bobo’s trailer park, give me weird looks sometimes.” She leaned closer to Nicole. “And I swear that one time, this one guy’s eyes glowed red. I know that sounds, well,” she swirled her finger next to her head to indicate crazy. “But this guy, his name was Harvey, and I cut him off at Shorty’s. He got so pissed, and his eyes went red and his voice got all deep and weird.” Waverly shook her head. “That’s why I wanted to come here, to the homestead. Daddy always said it was built on some kind of mineral that the revenants were, like, basically allergic to. So the house is safe from them.”

“Oh, wow,” said Nicole. “And here I thought you just wanted to get the hell out of Purgatory.”

Waverly laughed. “Well, I did like the idea of having a retreat, with space to do my research. But no, mostly it’s that the revenants seem to be getting more active, the closer we get to Wynonna’s birthday. I’m kind of freaked out about that.” 

Nicole nodded thoughtfully. “So, her birthday is in the spring, right? And that’s when she becomes the heir, officially?”

“Yeah,” Waverly said, biting her lip. “If she comes back. I’m not sure what happens if she doesn’t. Like, do _I_ become the heir? That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

“So you haven’t found anything about that yet? About what happens if the heir isn’t in Purgatory when they turn 27?” Nicole asked.

“No, not yet,” said Waverly. “I’m gonna grab some water. Want some?” 

Nicole nodded and passed her canteen to Waverly, who took both of theirs out to the backyard water pump. She stretched her long legs out in front of her on the wooden floor, trying to ease out the stiffness of sitting cross-legged for so long. She thought about Carl, and the other men she’d seen around town who Nedley said were part of Bobo’s group. Nicole had never actually met Bobo Del Rey in the time she’d been in Purgatory; whenever she’d been on a call at the trailer park, he wasn’t around. But what Waverly had told her shed a little more light on the rumors she’d heard about the Earps and demons, which she’d always assumed meant Wynonna’s metaphorical ones. Whatever the deal was with Wyatt Earp’s legend and curse, Waverly believed it, and she or her sister were on the shit list of some very real, very bad men. And that was all that mattered.

When Waverly returned with their waters and sat back down next to Nicole on the floor, she looked a little bit embarrassed. “Soooo, it’s just hitting me that I told you basically my whole messed-up life story, and I know how weird it sounds, and I’ll totally understand if you—”

“Hey.” Nicole reached out and placed her hand on top of Waverly’s. She waited a beat, until Waverly raised her eyes to meet Nicole’s. “I’m glad you told me. Really. I want to help.”

“Yeah?” Waverly said softly, her eyes searching Nicole’s. “Please don’t tell anyone about the stuff I showed you. Everyone in this town already hates Wynonna.”

Nicole squeezed her hand, then let it drop. “I won’t. I’m on _your_ side, Waverly.”

***

Nicole left for town about an hour later, after she walked back to retrieve the pails of blackberries with Waverly, and after Waverly apologized about twenty more times for pepper-spraying her. Back at the house, Waverly realized how much lighter she felt now, having told Nicole about the revenants and the curse. She didn’t think that even Curtis and Gus understood--or believed in--the full extent of it. The only person she’d thought she could talk to about it was Wynonna, but Wynonna was gone. 

Nicole was....disarming. Waverly had always thought she was so kind, and sweet, and funny the times she’d seen her at Shorty’s or around town. She was intriguing, too. She couldn’t have been much older than Waverly, but she was a cop, and seemingly on her own in Purgatory, of all places. Waverly had wanted to get to know her better, but could never think up an excuse to stop by the station unless Chrissy was there, which wasn’t often. But it always made her day when Nicole came by Shorty’s for lunch. Nicole would ask how her shift was going, and it was genuine. She made warm eye contact, she stacked her dishes neatly at the end of her booth when she finished eating, and she tipped well. She was a good person, Waverly was sure of that. And she hadn’t run screaming from the homestead when she’d heard Waverly’s family was cursed by the back-from-the-dead outlaws Wyatt Earp had killed.

Now that the house was (mostly) clean, Waverly decided it was time for the thing she was dreading most about not having running water: bathing. She’d been putting it off because until she got the plumbing turned on--which might involve a whole lot of red tape about whether she was indeed entitled to live there, given that the deed had surely transferred to Wynonna’s name after Ward’s death--there was just no good way to warm the freezing glacier-fed water from the pump or river. 

Waverly briefly considered hauling in buckets of water to warm by the fire, but using the fireplace felt like an awful lot of trouble for a hot late-summer day. So Waverly decided to go straight to the river. She grabbed a change of clothes, a bar of soap, and the thin old towel she’d brought. Despite not wanting to be a burden, she was glad Nicole had offered to bring her more supplies.

She followed the fenceline of the homestead to the south and found the edge of the Ghost River. Just as she’d remembered, it was deeper along this edge of the property than the rocky area where she’d crossed it on her way up. Here, it was shaded by tall grasses that overhung the banks. The river flowed gently, but there were deep, shaded pockets of still water where the river curved.

The river bottom was mucky, and Waverly winced as her toes sunk into the squelching mud, thinking maybe she’d end up dirtier than she’d started. But the water itself was clear and cold, and actually felt refreshing. She washed quickly, even her hair, as dragonflies and mayflies zipped around her. A turtle lazed on a log nearby, unbothered. As she finished rinsing off, Waverly noticed a thin stream of bubbles traveling up from a shaded rock in the water, popping lightly on the surface. Bubbles meant something was down there in the mud. Freshwater mussels, perhaps. Or—

“Crayfish!” Waverly gasped, peering into the water. She could see a large crayfish lurking just under the edge of the rock in the riverbed. Problem was, it was facing her, which meant its claws were too. 

Waverly carefully stepped out of the water, not wanting to disturb the crayfish now that she knew where it was. She dried and dressed quickly, leaving her dirty clothes there on the bank so she could find the same spot when she returned, and jogged back to the house. In the barn, she’d seen thick rubber work gloves that had probably once been used for the horses. But they’d also be perfect crayfish-claw protection. 

Waverly found the gloves and slipped one on her right hand. It was comically large, reaching all the way to her elbow, and her fingertips didn’t reach the ends. She wiggled them, though, and decided she had enough control that they would do. 

Back at the river’s edge, Waverly lay on her stomach watching the crayfish in what felt like a standoff. Its beady eyes seemed to regard her in challenge, and its antennae twitched. Waverly couldn’t decide whether a slow or quick approach was best. She decided on quick.

Waverly took a deep breath and plunged her arm into the water. She nabbed the crayfish on the first try, and yanked it triumphantly out of the water.

“Yes! YES!” She exclaimed. “Oops--oh, balls,” the crayfish was waving its legs and claws around, and Waverly almost lost her hold on it. She wrapped it carefully in her bandanna, then returned her attention to the river. Overturning the biggest rocks led to the capture of three more crayfish, and Waverly felt like that was enough for a meal. 

Back at the homestead, Waverly swept dirt and debris out of the circle of rocks in front of the yard. The fire ring had a shallow metal bowl in the center, and Waverly hacked some dry old branches off a dead tree near the barn for firewood. 

Waverly’s luck with her flint and steel had been sporadic, the times she practiced at the McCreadys’. But she wanted to be careful to ration her matches, and save them for the times she needed to relight the fire or a candle in the middle of the night.

She positioned the half-circle of steel around the knuckles of her right hand, and struck it hard and fast against the jagged lump of flint. With her first two strikes, the sparks flew out every which way. But soon she got back into the groove of it, and was able to aim the sparks more precisely at a little bit of cotton fluff. When it started to burn, Waverly carefully added dried pine needles to it, just a couple at a time, while blowing on the little flame lightly and steadily. Then she added little bits of kindling, then a few bigger sticks, and soon she had an impressive campfire. 

And despite Waverly’s misgivings about abandoning her vegan diet, the crayfish were delicious. She wrapped them in wet leaves and steamed them there in the fire. Their meat was sweet and delicate, and she ate them with fresh blackberries and the last of her trail mix. 

Belly content from her fresh meal, and cozy on her blanket roll next to the fire, Waverly almost wished she had someone there to share it with. Someone to point out the constellations that were beginning to dot the murky black of the late-summer night. Someone to tease her when the popping wood of the fire startled her so much she jumped. Someone to help her put out the fire with a bucket of water from the hand pump, pull closed the curtains and secure the door, and whisper plans together for the week ahead as they settled in to sleep.

***

The next two days passed quickly for Nicole. There was a full moon, and Nicole was convinced that it wasn’t just a myth that that made cops’ jobs harder. It seemed the residents of Purgatory were determined to get as drunk and disorderly as possible. Fortunately, it usually wasn’t much worse than shouting matches between neighbors or cars dented on traffic poles. 

Friday was her short day, and since she wouldn’t get a full day off until the following week, she’d told Waverly she’d use the opportunity on Friday to bring her some supplies. She stopped by the McCready farm to grab some of Waverly’s clothes, and reassure Gus that her niece was settling in at the homestead and just needed a break, and would be back in touch soon. Gus fretted but seemed satisfied to know Nicole was looking out for Waverly.

Nicole loaded up more food in her backpack, too--energy bars and dried fruit, mostly. And a fishing rod and tackle she borrowed from Nedley, who was pleased to have a tangible way to help Waverly. Chrissy sent a folded note and a KitKat bar.

The hike back up the Ghost River Mountains was easier now that Nicole was familiar with the route and knew the shallowest spot to cross the river. She walked quickly despite the awkwardness of her lumpy backpack with the tacklebox, fishing rod, and extra blankets strapped to the outside, eager to get to the homestead. 

When it came into view, Nicole saw Waverly hanging shirts on a clothesline, which looked like it had been improvised from a piece of twine strung between trees. Waverly’s back was to Nicole as she worked, her white tank top highlighting the muscles in her tanned shoulders and arms. Her long hair was held back in a ponytail, and she wore a faded lavender bandanna and black shorts. 

“Hey, you.” Nicole said, as she approached. 

Waverly whirled around, and at the sight of Nicole her face lit up with the most radiant smile. “Hi.” she said simply. “Just doing my laundry. Never realized how much I took washing machines for granted.”

Nicole laughed, and set her pack down on the grass between them. “I come bearing gifts.”

“Oooooh, you are my favorite person!” exclaimed Waverly, running over to eagerly dig through the backpack. Nicole felt a warmth spread through her whole body at the compliment, making her feel weightless and slightly dizzy. 

As Waverly lined up each item on the grass beside her as if it were the most precious gift in the world, Nicole kneeled down next to her, offering up explanations like “I know you don’t like peanut butter--Chrissy told me--but I hope almond butter is okay” and “I thought the lantern might be nice if you have to go out back at night” and “the extra blanket is just in case it gets cool one of these nights.” 

Once everything was unpacked, Waverly surprised Nicole by pulling her in for a tight hug. “You’re really thoughtful, you know that?” she said quietly against Nicole’s cheek. 

Nicole gripped her tightly in return, feeling a blush spread onto her cheeks. “It’s nothing,” she replied.

Waverly pulled back and met her eyes. “It’s not nothing.” She looked back at all the goodies spread out before them. “Wanna help me get this stuff put away?”

Nicole carried the fishing supplies and a couple small tools to the barn, while Waverly took the food, clothing, and blanket to the house. Then Nicole brought her empty backpack back to the porch and sat down on the railing, looking out over the land. 

Waverly came out and joined her, leaning against the railing next to Nicole. “It’s really beautiful here, isn’t it?”

Nicole nodded. “It is. Peaceful, too. I can see why you wanted to come here. How long do you think you’ll stay?” 

Waverly shrugged. “Through the winter, at least. Maybe longer.” 

Raising her eyebrows, Nicole said, “Wow. Do Gus and Curtis know?”

“I think so. I told them...something like that, anyway.” 

“Waverly, if you’re going to stay here, we need to start prepping for winter, like, now.” Nicole hopped down. “It snows SO much here. What if you can’t get down to town? What if the logging road and trails are blocked, and no one can get supplies to you?” 

Waverly just regarded her with an amused expression. “Purgatory’s not that far, Nicole. I’m sure I’ll be able to get to town every once in a while.” 

“But what if you can’t? You need food, and— and firewood, and a LOT more blankets and clothes, and tools, and maybe a gun just in case…” She started pacing, running her hand through her hair. 

Waverly rested her hand on Nicole’s arm, instantly stilling the redhead. “Well. It’s not going to snow for at LEAST two months, right? Plenty of time to get supplies.”

“Firewood is the most important thing,” Nicole said seriously. “You could freeze to death. You have an axe, right?”

Waverly rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Of course. What kind of Canadian would I be if I didn’t have an axe?”

Nicole laughed. “Right.” She let out a slow exhale. “So...we’ve got a few hours until I have to leave. Why don’t I chop some firewood for you now? No time like the present to start getting ready.” 

Waverly’s eyebrows shot up. “You’d do that for me?” she asked. She honestly couldn’t imagine why Nicole was being so kind to her. Waverly was so used to fending for herself that she’d just assumed it would be the same out here. 

“I’d do a lot of things for you,” Nicole said, matter-of-factly.

Waverly raised her eyebrows, a slow smile spreading across her face.

Nicole winked at her, her smile making her dimples pop. Waverly felt a thrill of..._something_ rush through her. That wink from Nicole felt special and delicate; like a gift just for her. 

“So, what do you say?” Nicole asked, tilting her head.

Waverly regarded her thoughtfully. “Tell you what,” she said. “You chop some wood, lumberjack, and I’ll try out that fishing rod you brought and see if I can catch us some dinner.” 

Nicole grinned. “It’s a deal.” 

As Nicole prepared to chop the firewood, Waverly gathered the fishing gear, and went out behind the house to dig up some worms for bait. Near a small grove of trees in the backyard, Waverly had found wild squash vines--probably a generation of butternut that had grown from what was originally her mother’s garden. Waverly dug in the rich soil near the squash plants, pulling writhing earthworms from the ground and depositing them in an old tin can along with a handful of dirt.

Once she was satisfied that she had enough bait, Waverly gathered her gear and went back around the house, planning to walk down to the shady nooks of the river where the crayfish had been. But when she came around the corner, she stopped short and stared.

Nicole had stripped down to her sports bra and shorts in the heat, and her shoulder-length hair was done up in a ponytail. She stood in front of an old tree stump and balanced a log on top, then heaved the axe over head and brought it down with a whack, splitting the log right down the middle.

Waverly just watched her for a moment, her can of worms dangling loosely from her fingertips. Nicole didn’t notice her--just set up another log. Muscles flexing, she raised the axe over her head again, and brought it down hard. 

Waverly dropped the can. 

***

It was more difficult to leave, that time. Nicole found herself lingering long past when she should have started down the mountain. Waverly had caught four beautiful rainbow trout, which they’d cooked over the fire along with some potatoes Nicole had brought with her, wrapped in tinfoil, and more fresh berries for dessert. They’d idled by the fire despite the heat. Once it was down to just a few glowing embers, Nicole helped Waverly put out the fire and clean up after their meal. A small pile of firewood was neatly stacked under the barn’s roof overhang, and Nicole promised to do more the next time she came up. Then she’d paused, realizing she was being presumptuous to assume there would even be a next time. Waverly seemed to notice. 

“When can you come up here again? It’s actually been really nice. And I want to do a little more research with Ward’s journals--maybe you could help me with that. If you want to, anyway. You totally don’t have to, though. If you’re busy.” 

“Of course I want to,” Nicole said warmly, shouldering her backpack. “I’d really love that. Tomorrow I have a ten-hour day at work, but maybe I can sneak up here for a couple of hours the day after that?”

Waverly nodded. “Perfect. Thanks again for all your help. I know I teased you about getting stuff ready for winter already, but it actually feels really nice to get that started.”

Nicole grinned. “My pleasure. Ma’am,” she said, tipping her imaginary hat.

Waverly laughed, and Nicole turned to head down the mountain, following the overgrown logging road. When she glanced back, Waverly was still watching her, arms crossed over her stomach. 

The trail wasn’t so muddy anymore, now that it had been a couple of days since they’d had a good rain in Purgatory. Nicole’s arms felt tight from all the chopping she’d done, and she knew she’d be sore in the morning. But it also felt so good to be outside, doing physical work. She spent too much time these days in her patrol car, or inside her little house. But this reminded her of camping as a kid, and also of the hard workouts she used to do when she was in the academy.

As she came around a corner, she saw a large bird soaring overhead and stopped to watch, shading her eyes with her hand as she tracked its slow flight over the trees--she could see it had something brown grasped in its talons, and it pumped its wings hard to compensate for the extra weight. It had a dark gray head and a pretty grayish-white underbelly. A peregrine falcon. Intrigued, she kept watching as it came to a small cliff jutting out from the side of the mountain and landed on a ledge. It must have a nest, Nicole thought.

She turned to keep walking down the path, and made good time, getting back into town well before dark. Back in her house, Nicole sat down to go over some paperwork for the station. She liked to get it out of the way in the evenings so that she could spend more of her day doing actual police work instead of chained to her desk, filing reports. But her mind drifted too often, and finally she gave up and went to her bedroom before the summer sun had even set. She took a long, hot shower, letting the water beat against her tight shoulders, relaxing them. Then she dressed in soft cotton shorts and a baby-blue tank top, and snuggled under a light bedsheet. She wondered about Waverly, and worried about winter.


	4. Chapter 4

More than a week passed, with Nicole only making it out to visit Waverly once. She brought more supplies: food, clothing, soap. A pair of flip-flops. A bag of potato chips. A tin of Waverly’s favorite tea that Gus sent along. But Nedley was short-staffed with one of the deputies out with the stomach flu, so Nicole was picking up shifts and covering paperwork for more of the week than she would have liked. She reasoned with herself that as much as Waverly seemed to enjoy her company, she’d also literally run away from town to live in the woods. It was only fair to give her space.

After work one day, Nicole was excited to finally receive the package of climbing gear she’d ordered. New shoes--she immediately kicked off her scruffy house slippers to try them on--and rope. The climbing harness and other supplies she already owned were still in good shape. She tucked all her gear into the bag she’d been putting together to take up to the homestead the next day. She was eager to get back and see how Waverly was doing, and what she’d been working on. During her last visit, Waverly had been working to pickle some cucumbers and beets that Gus had sent along, as Nicole chopped more wood. Waverly was getting a pretty good store of food set aside, between the cans and packets Nicole brought, the veggies Waverly pickled, and the squash she stored in the root cellar. Waverly had also become more adept at catching trout with Nedley’s old fishing rod. The more steady sources of fresh food she had available, the better.

Nicole settled into her favorite living room chair with a book about birds of prey that she’d checked out from the library. She knew a little bit about peregrine falcons from what her grandmother, an avid birdwatcher, had told her. But she’d need to know a lot more. 

***

Waverly’s new daily habit was to bathe in the river first thing, before she even had breakfast. Much as she disliked the icy coldness of the water, it also invigorated her and helped get her going for the day. After that, she got back to her latest project, which was fixing up the barn. It had a couple of old horse stalls and a small fenced yard, and the fence was desperately in need of repair. The wood was rotting and splitting in places, and one section of the fence was missing altogether. Waverly thought if she could get that fixed up and also build a little coop she might be able to get a few animals in the spring--a few chickens; maybe a milking cow. She had her heart set on a Jersey cow, a breed that had a beautiful tan hide and big eyes with long lashes. 

She knew this was Nicole’s day off, and that she’d be coming to visit, but she wasn’t sure what time Nicole would arrive. So she tried to busy herself with her chores, all the while glancing over toward the road every few minutes. 

Taking a break from pulling rotten boards loose from the section of the fence closest to the barn, Waverly went back to the pump to splash her face with cold water. And finally, when she came back around the barn wiping her face with a bandanna, Waverly saw Nicole coming down the logging road. 

Nicole’s auburn hair shone brightly in the sun. It was wavier today than usual, as if she’d braided it after a shower the night before. She looked fit and confident, striding toward Waverly on those long legs, carrying an overstuffed hiking pack on her back as if it were weightless. 

Waverly gave her a little wave, bouncing a bit on the balls of her feet. When she reached Waverly, Nicole pulled her in for a tight hug. She smelled lightly of vanilla, and Waverly breathed her scent in deeply. It reminded her of baking sugar cookies in a sunny kitchen. The closest Waverly had gotten to that in weeks was toasted marshmallows over the fire pit. 

“I have a lot of food and stuff for you,” Nicole said, as she set down her heavy pack. “Should I go ahead and put it away in the pantry?” 

Waverly nodded. It was hard to adjust to hearing Nicole’s voice again, and to touching her, after a few days without human contact. Waverly felt bubbly and giddy in her presence, and took a few deep breaths to settle her nerves. 

Nicole smiled and squeezed Waverly’s arm. “Great,” she said. “And then I have something to show you.”

After she’d put away the food, clothes, and towels she brought, Nicole brought her still-bulky pack over to the living room, where Waverly was waiting eagerly. They sat down on the floor together, and Nicole pulled her gear out of the bag. 

“Rock-climbing?” Waverly asked, picking up one of the ropes. “I’ve never tried it.”

Nicole wasn’t sure whether Waverly would dismiss her plan--in fact, she sort of assumed she would. But Waverly was all in as Nicole went over it in detail, and she asked lots of questions about the logistics. 

“...Are you sure it’s safe, though?” Waverly asked her, looking concerned. “I’m not sure I’d recognize if something was wrong with the ropes, or whatever.” 

“Good thing I’m an expert, then,” Nicole teased. “Seriously, though, this’ll be a really easy climb compared to some of the other ones I’ve done. I’m just not positive what I’ll find when I get up there.”

“Let’s do it,” Waverly grinned. “Is there anything I need to get ready?” 

Nicole thought for a moment. “We might need some warm towels. And fresh fish, actually. Think you’d have any luck catching a couple while I get all this stuff ready?”

“Oh, trust me, you just wait,” Waverly laughed. “I’ve had nothing to do but practice fishing all week.” 

Nicole loved seeing Waverly this way, teasing and self-confident. “Don’t let me down, Earp,” she grinned.

An hour later, they were standing at the base of the cliff where Nicole had seen the falcon, and Nicole was all rigged up and ready to go. They had spent some time setting up a belay from another point on the ridge, and now Waverly stood around as Nicole prepared, feeling useless. 

“I could be your cheerleader? Would that help?” Waverly joked. “Give me an F! Give me an A! Give me an L!” she exclaimed, moving her hands and hips as if she had pom-poms. 

“Okay, that MIGHT be a little distracting, Waves,” Nicole laughed, her cheeks turning slightly pink. “Just wait here, and be ready when I come down. We’ll have to get this harness off in a hurry in case the mama falcon gets mad.”

Waverly nodded. She picked up what she now thought of as her crayfish gloves, and pulled them on. “I’m ready.”

Nicole gave her a nod, and began the climb up the face of the cliff. Fortunately, it was an easy climb, with sturdy footholds. It felt good to be climbing again. 

“Lookin’ great up there!” Waverly called. “You got this!”

“Thanks, cheerleader!” Nicole called back over her shoulder. She reached up for the ledge she’d been eyeing, and felt something cool and wet on her hand. “What the…?” she pulled her hand back and saw something gloppy and gray on it. Bird poop. “Gross,” Nicole muttered, wiping her hand on the sandstone. She pulled herself up to the ledge, forearms shaking slightly with the effort, and three fuzzy little gray heads came into view. 

“Hello, beauties,” murmured Nicole. The baby falcons stared back at her with beady eyes, opening and closing their beaks. Nicole wriggled her fingers at them slowly, gauging their reactions. They all followed the movements, the biggest chick tilting its head and bobbing slightly up and down. 

“Nicole!” yelped Waverly from below, just as something hard and sharp slammed into Nicole’s shoulder. She cried out in pain and surprise, tightening her grip on the ledge and looking behind her to see what had hit her. She saw the mother falcon banking to the right to circle back around, heard Waverly screaming for her to hurry down. 

“Sorry, mama,” said Nicole through gritted teeth. There was a searing pain in her shoulder, and her shirt felt damp where the falcon had hit her. She scooped up the biggest falcon chick in one quick movement, and tucked it into the leather pouch she had hung from her neck. Then she kicked off and rappelled down, the chick warm and wriggly against her chest.

Waverly was waiting right where she landed, her eyes glossy with held-back tears. “Oh my god, are you okay?” She grabbed Nicole’s good shoulder and turned her around to examine the wound, her fingers tracing lightly along Nicole’s back. “Jeez, Nicole, she really got you. It’s bleeding a lot.” 

Nicole nodded. “Help me get out of this harness and we’ll go take a look. But hey,” she opened the top of the pouch and they both peered inside and the little chick, who stared back at them with its beak open, looking offended. “I got our baby.” Waverly laughed at that, but then murmured something gentle that Nicole didn’t quite catch when she looked back at the bloody wound. Then, “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Waverly helped Nicole unhook her harness and step out of it, but they left the ropes in place on the cliff for now. As they began to head toward the house, Waverly glanced back at the rocky ledge where Nicole had just been. The mama falcon was perched there, feeding something to her babies, apparently unaware that one of them was off on its own new adventure.

***

Back at the house, Waverly set their falcon baby in a bucket lined with rags. It made a little chittering noise, then settled down contentedly in its new nest, eyelids blinking heavily. Waverly smoothed her finger over the downy feathers on its back. “We’ll feed you soon, little one,” she told it. 

She found Nicole in the bathroom, struggling to lift her shirt over her head, her face twisted in pain. Waverly hurried over to her. “Hey--let me.”

Nicole dropped her arms and gave Waverly a sheepish smile. “Thanks--I thought I could do it, but it really hurts to lift that arm.” 

Waverly helped her guide the tank top hem over her good arm, then over her head to slide it gently off the injured side. Her shoulder had a bloody gash, but was mostly purpley-red and would be a nasty bruise. “It’s pretty bad, but I don’t think you need stitches,” she told Nicole. “The cut itself isn’t super deep.” Waverly rummaged around her small bag of first-aid supplies, finding gauze, tape, ointment, and ibuprofen. Nicole waited patiently, leaning against the sink. 

Waverly wiped the blood and dirt away from the wound gently, making slow circles with a warm washcloth. She had never felt so self-conscious around a half-dressed woman before, even though she’d changed in front of Chrissy and their other friends loads of times when she was a cheerleader. Waverly dressed the wound, trying to focus on the task at hand and not the redhead’s smooth, exposed skin; or the swell of breasts under a sporty black bra. She felt a little breathless.

Nicole seemed to notice the way Waverly’s hands had started to tremble slightly, because she gave her a curious look. Waverly cleared her throat. “There,” she said with a smile. “All set.”

“Thank you,” said Nicole. “Didn’t expect I’d be adding ‘falcon strike’ to my list of lifetime injuries, but here we are.”

“Let’s go check on her, yeah?” asked Waverly, helping Nicole back into her shirt, and looking basically everywhere else in the bathroom except at Nicole. “I hope that whole thing wasn’t too traumatic. She’s probably starving.”

“Oh, it’s a girl, is it?” teased Nicole. “Actually, you’re probably right. I read that the female chicks are bigger. What do you want to name her?”

Waverly’s eyes got big and she gave a little squeal of delight. “Well, we have to get to know her, of course!” She grabbed Nicole’s good hand and led her back to the kitchen, where their little bird was awake again and craning its neck, opening its beak as if thoroughly offended.

“Okay, this is gonna be really gross,” said Waverly. She grabbed a little dish from the counter and held it out to Nicole, who wrinkled her nose.

“I _thought_ I smelled fish guts,” Nicole said. “So how do we do this?”

Waverly shrugged. “Just, like...drop it in her mouth, I guess?” She grabbed her rubber gloves from a hook by the door and pulled them on.

As Nicole sat cross-legged on the floor and watched, Waverly gingerly picked little bits of fish innards from the bowl, and fed them to the hungry falcon. They both laughed as the little bird gulped the meat down hungrily, her little body almost seeming to grow bigger with each bite. Once she was satisfied, the bird sank back down on her feet and stopped opening her beak. Soon, she was once again asleep. 

“I have no idea how often to feed her, do you?” Waverly asked.

“I think every couple of hours?” said Nicole. “I’m sure she’ll let us know.” 

Waverly nodded. “I can get some more fish or crayfish for her soon.”

“If you have any trouble,” said Nicole, “I’m sure I could bring some meat up from town.”

“So you really think she’ll be a hunter?”

“I do,” said Nicole. “People used to use them for hunting all the time. She’ll catch you rabbit and pheasant all winter--assuming we’re able to train her. We’ll have to get some more supplies; maybe some leather straps for her feet and a thick leather glove for you.”

“Guess I’ll have to learn a thing or two about cooking pheasant,” said Waverly. 

“I could always bring you a book,” offered Nicole.

Waverly moved toward the back of the house, indicating that she wanted to clean her gloves by the pump. Nicole followed. 

“You’ve done so much for me, Nicole,” Waverly said. “I really appreciate that. I know I could be going into town and getting my own supplies, but I just really wanted a clean break. I think I might go to town tomorrow, though. Will you be working?”

“I will,” said Nicole, reaching out to take the clean gloves so Waverly could wash her hands as well. 

“Okay,” said Waverly. “Maybe I’ll swing by the station while I’m there? Just to say hi.” She brightened. “I could bring you lunch.”

Nicole grinned. “That would be awesome. Are you going to see Gus and Curtis too? And Chrissy?”

Waverly nodded. “Yeah. I suppose it’s past time that I should check in with them.” 

“I told them you’re doing fine,” said Nicole, as they headed back into the house. “But I know they’d love to see you. I think they want to give you space, but they’re a bit worried.” 

“You’re right,” Waverly said. “I’ll do that.”

They went to check on their little bird again, who was still sleeping soundly. “Want me to help you get some more fish for her?” Nicole asked.

Waverly shook her head. “I know you need to be getting back,” she said, a little sadly. “But hey, I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” said Nicole. “I’ll be at the station at eight.” She slowly repacked her bag with the few things she was carrying back to town. “Today was fun.” 

Waverly’s eyes crinkled with her smile. “Yeah, loads of fun. With a shoulder injury to show for it.” 

Nicole laughed. “It was...an adventure.” She hesitated, then walked over to Waverly and pulled her into a tight hug. 

Waverly was surprised, but immediately relaxed against Nicole, leaning into her warm strength. Nicole kept her injured arm at her side, only squeezing Waverly close with her other arm, but it still felt completely enveloping. They held each other a bit longer than was strictly necessary for a goodbye hug, and then Nicole pulled away and walked quickly out the door, calling “See you tomorrow!” behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The falcon-nest scene parallels a subplot of My Side of the Mountain, the book that inspired me to write this fic. In it, the main character takes a baby peregrine much the way Nicole does here. I've done a bit of Googling in addition to what I gleaned from that book, but have no personal experience with falconry.


	5. Chapter 5

Summer faded, and autumn began, and Nicole visited Waverly more often. Deputy James was a full-fledged member of the sheriff’s department now, which not only meant Nicole had to work less overtime, but also that she had to do less paperwork since James was taking more on. Plus, Chrissy was hanging around the station regularly, doing some of the clerical-type stuff to earn extra cash while she saved up for nursing school.

Since Nicole was hiking into the mountains so often, she had taken up maintaining some of the trailheads and generally monitoring what was going on in the rural outskirts of Purgatory, which Nedley seemed to really appreciate. He mused more than once that he’d always wanted a forest ranger on the team, but never had the extra cash for it in the budget. 

Waverly had come down into town twice, visiting Chrissy and Gus and Curtis, who were reassured that she was doing well, and in fact talked about “Waverly’s homestead” with pride. The three of them made the trip up once together, too, but it was clear that Curtis’s knees were no longer built for regular trips up the mountainside. Between Waverly’s own trips to town and the supplies Nicole brought along each time she visited, the homestead was becoming well-stocked and cozy. Waverly had proper towels and blankets and an air mattress, at least, even if she didn’t have much other furniture. 

And their bird--she was a teenage bird now, looking much more like a proper peregrine falcon than the fuzzy little alien-looking creature she had been when they found her. Waverly had named her Frankie (“It’s all about the alliteration, Nicole!” she’d laughed), and she was becoming a skilled huntress. Waverly and Nicole had researched falconry together, lying on blankets on the living room floor and paging through books about how to train the bird. During the day when Nicole was working, Waverly would take a hungry Frankie out to the meadow and practice tossing a lure for her--a bit of meat tied to a stick with bits of fur and feathers. Frankie was a quick learner with a strong prey drive, and it didn’t take long to teach her to bring the lure back to Waverly and get some choice fish guts in return. Just last week, Frankie had caught her first real game; a rabbit that Nicole had skinned and prepared (because Waverly couldn’t bring herself to butcher such a cute little thing) and Waverly had cooked for them in a savory stew over the fire.

Today, as Nicole hopped easily across the river and continued down the logging road toward the homestead, she heard a piercing cry overhead and saw Frankie soaring above. Nicole grinned and whistled for her, holding her arm outstretched. Frankie circled lower and then came to land on Nicole’s arm, her wings flapping clumsily as she found her balance and then hopped up to Nicole’s shoulder. Frankie was only about the size of a small crow, but still Nicole was glad her shoulder was well healed by now, so it didn’t hurt at all for the bird to perch there--aside from the slight pinch of her talons.

Nicole heard Waverly then, whistling for Frankie. Frankie sat up taller on Nicole’s shoulder, alert. “Go on, then,” said Nicole, shrugging her shoulders to urge the bird forward. Frankie took off, flying for Waverly. 

When Nicole reached them, Frankie was back on her perch by the barn, preening as Waverly scratched the back of her head gently. 

“Hey there,” Nicole said easily, and Waverly turned with a smile. She ran the remaining few meters to Nicole and hugged her tightly. It was their custom, now, to hug hello or goodbye whenever they parted or met again. And it was always the best part of Nicole’s day.

They unpacked the supplies Nicole had brought, which had gone from all necessities on her first trips to the homestead, to some “luxuries” now--like lavender-scented hand lotion, fresh veggies, wine. 

Then they walked to the high meadow--a small clearing on the ridgeline, lined with tall, skinny aspen trees, their white bark in pretty contrast to the gray-blue fall sky. They threw the lure a few times for Frankie, then let her soar above them as she pleased as they explored the meadow, looking for late wildflowers and woolly-bear caterpillars, whose black and tan stripes were said to foretell the harshness of winter. 

They heard Frankie’s piercing cry and saw a streak of gray as she shot toward a dense patch of Big Bluestem, grasses that were taller than Nicole. As Frankie landed, she pumped her wings mightily and stretched out her talons. She had caught her first pheasant.

Later, Nicole plucked and prepped the bird, tossing the gizzards to Frankie, who caught them easily. Waverly disappeared down to the root cellar, then re-emerged with a wild onion and a few carrots. They started boiling the pheasant in a pot that Nicole had rigged over the firepit, and Nicole went down to the stream for her first mountain bath while Waverly peeled carrots.

Waverly hadn’t been kidding when she said the water was cold. Nicole shucked her clothes and waded in, gasping at the iciness of it. She scrubbed quickly, washing off the grime from preparing the pheasant. It had been an unpleasant task, and Nicole washed her hair too, wanting to feel totally clean. She hopped out and dried quickly, because the days were cooler now and the breeze chilled her almost as much as the water had. She dressed in a shirt and lounge pants she’d borrowed from Waverly, and pulled her damp hair back in a low ponytail. The pants were a bit short for her, but they were comfortable.

When Nicole got back to the kitchen, Waverly had finished chopping the carrots and onion, and now stood leaning intently over a cookbook, wooden spoon in one hand, a mixing bowl on the table in front of her. She twirled the spoon absently, nearly dropping it, and Nicole chuckled.

At the sound, Waverly looked up and raised her eyebrows, her gaze slowly taking in all of Nicole.

When their eyes met again, Waverly blinked as if clearing her head. “Feel better?” she asked with a smile.

Nicole nodded, blushing, and came over to stand next to her. “Whatcha’ doin’?” she asked. Waverly had changed into more comfortable clothes, too--faded pajama pants and a thin T-shirt. Her hair was tied back in a high ponytail--a few curly tendrils had escaped and were grazing her neck.

“Oh, I wanted to make us a dessert,” Waverly said, flipping back a page in the cookbook and tilting her head to review the list of ingredients again. Nicole noticed a few light freckles along Waverly’s collarbones, brought out from all her time working in the late-summer sun. 

“I cut up some of those apples you brought last week, and I have cinnamon and oats,” she continued. “But I’m not really sure how to cook it over the fire, so I don’t know if it will work.” 

“Can I see?” Nicole leaned next to her, skimming over the recipe. Her bare arm brushed against Waverly’s, and tingled, sending the words on the page swimming before her. Nicole suddenly had a rush of longing so intense she almost had to grab the edge of the table to steady herself. It was like something deep within her was pulling her toward Waverly, wanting. She looked so beautiful standing there by the window, her hair golden in the afternoon light, her lips pink and kissable. 

Waverly glanced up at Nicole. “What’s up?” she asked, but her voice was quiet, hesitant.

Nicole shook her head slightly and exhaled. “Nothing.” She moved deliberately away, busied herself rummaging in the cabinet for a pan. “Um. Maybe if we put it in this tin, with some foil over it?”

It worked, well enough. The oats didn’t set quite right, and the apples weren’t as soft as they’d have been baked in their juices in the oven, but their campfire apple crisp was still warm and cinnamony, and the perfect comfort-meal complement to their rich pheasant stew. 

They sat by the fire for a long time afterward, as Frankie preened and then dozed on her perch nearby, full of pheasant too. They got to talking about Nicole’s childhood; Waverly felt like Nicole knew so much about her, and she wanted to know everything too. So Nicole told her about the big brother she admired so much, the hippie parents who couldn’t understand her drive to be in law enforcement, the once-close friends she’d drifted apart from after immersing herself in the academy. 

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Waverly poked at the fire with a long stick, sending sparks circling among the smoke. “I mean, I never saw you with anyone around town, but I wasn’t sure,” 

Nicole paused, watching Waverly for a moment, the fire reflecting warm and pretty on her tanned face. “No, no boyfriend,” she said. Waverly just nodded. “What about you? Were you dating anyone before you left?”

“Nah,” said Waverly, shrugging. “I dated this guy Champ for a couple months last year, but...well, it was never anything serious. I don’t know.”

They sat quietly, watching the fire. Nicole ached to tell Waverly more--about how she’d never been interested in guys, and had figured that maybe she was just a loner by nature. About how she’d had crushes on other girls over the past few years; crushes she first interpreted as admiration, but then realized were something more. About how she’d had one of those crushes on Waverly since the very first day she saw her.

The words burned in her throat, nearly choking her, and her eyes stung. She stayed quiet. 

Waverly shivered. “I can’t believe it’s getting so cold already,” she said. Nicole stood up, shook out the blanket she’d been sitting on, then sat back down right next to Waverly and wrapped the plaid woolen blanket around them both.

With a contented sigh, Waverly snuggled closer and leaned her head on Nicole’s shoulder. Nicole stayed still, as if Waverly were a skittish deer who could be frightened away at the slightest movement. But as the fire slowly faded to embers, she relaxed against Waverly too.

***

Waverly woke up with a start, disoriented. She was outside, and the fire had gone cold. Twilight was settling in among the trees. And Nicole--Nicole was there, warm and solid on the ground beside her, leaning her back against a tree stump as Waverly had dozed with her head against Nicole’s shoulder. 

Waverly looked up and saw Nicole watching her with a gentle smile. Sitting up slowly and trying to work out the crick in her neck, Waverly asked, “What time is it? How long was I asleep?”

“Just an hour or so, I think,” Nicole said, stretching her legs out in front of her and sitting up a bit taller. 

“Oh, shit. Shit. Nicole, it’s starting to get dark.” 

“I know. It’s okay. I have a lantern, and I could find my way down that trail with my eyes closed anyway.” They both stood, and Nicole started to fold their blanket, as Waverly watched with her hands on her hips.

“No. Absolutely not. I can’t let you walk through the woods alone at night. And in Purgatory, of all places!” 

“It’s okay. Really. It’ll be fine. I have to work tomorrow morning,” said Nicole, picking up their dinner plates to take inside. 

Waverly shook her head. “Stay here tonight. You can just get up early and head back to town, and at least it will be light out.”

“There’s nowhere to sleep,” said Nicole. “Unless you count the old hay in the barn, and I’m definitely not doing that.”

Waverly shrugged. “The air mattress is huge. We can both sleep there.” 

Nicole’s eyes widened, and she felt her heart speed up in what felt like a rush of panic. “Oh, no, Waves, I couldn’t do that. You’d be so uncomfortable…”

Waverly placed her hand on Nicole’s arm, and Nicole immediately relaxed. Waverly laughed. “Nicole. Don’t be ridiculous. Stay. Sleep on the air mattress. I don’t snore...or I think I don’t, anyway.”

Seconds ticked by, and Waverly almost took it back, afraid she’d been too forward, that she was reading their friendship as closer than it was and now she’d overstepped. Surely Nicole wanted to get back to her own house, her own bed. But before she could say anything else, Nicole answered sweetly, simply, “Okay. I’ll stay.” 

Since the night had turned chilly, they built a fire in the fireplace, with good thick logs so it would last, and dragged the air mattress closer. Waverly was starting to feel self-conscious, having not shared a bed with anyone before, not even during high school sleepovers, when she always had her own bright-purple sleeping bag. What if she did snore? What if she kicked Nicole in her sleep. What if--and this thought was horrifying--she snuggled Nicole in her sleep? She resolved to be the last one to sleep and the first one to wake, so Nicole wouldn’t know if she was a weird sleeper. 

Nicole was standing next to the air mattress, toying with the hem of her shirt. “Ah, I wasn’t sure which side you’d want. Do you have a preference?”

Just seeing how sweetly nervous Nicole looked made Waverly feel a hundred times better. This was Nicole, they cuddled and hugged all the time now, so sleeping side-by-side was no big deal. And she wouldn’t be alone in this old house all night tonight, and it would be wonderful. She grinned. “It doesn’t matter, silly. Get in.” 

At that, Nicole seemed to relax too, and they both climbed into bed, laughing when the air mattress shifted under their weight and threatened to send them either rolling into each other or off the edge. Once they’d settled and pulled the blankets up, though, the bed was comfortable. They lay facing each other, with only the soft, warm light of the fireplace highlighting their silhouettes. Frankie was sleeping on her usual perch in the barn, and the homestead was quiet.

“Thanks for saying I could stay,” said Nicole softly. “It’s really nice, being here with you.” 

Waverly felt a warm feeling spread through her, blooming in her chest. She snuggled down further into the blanket. “Yeah. Ditto,” she whispered, her eyes drifting closed.

***

Nicole woke up early, before the sun, when the alarm on her watch beeped to remind her that she’d have to hike down the mountain for her shift in a little less than an hour. Waverly blinked awake too beside her, regarding Nicole sleepily from her nest of blankets. 

“Morning,” Nicole said softly. “Did you sleep okay?”

Waverly nodded, then stretched and sat up, the air mattress rocking Nicole slightly with her movements. “Do you have to get going?” 

“Pretty soon,” Nicole sighed, throwing the blankets off of herself and getting out of bed. The morning was cool, but not freezing. “I’ll heat up some water for coffee and tea?” She went to the fireplace and started organizing kindle and small logs, and hung the copper kettle on its hook over the fire. 

They sat down to a spread of rolls with almond butter and dried apricots, plus green tea for Waverly and coffee for Nicole. Waverly didn’t have creamer, but Nicole was starting to enjoy the bittery-sweetness of just sugar in her coffee.

After they ate, Waverly walked Nicole over to the logging road. “Will you be back today?” she asked. 

“I don’t think so,” Nicole said regretfully. “I have a long shift, and it’ll be getting dark when I’m done. I can come up tomorrow, though, because I’m only working in the morning.” 

Waverly smiled. “I’d like that. I’m going to take Frankie up to the meadow to play with the lure later. Maybe she can catch us our dinner tomorrow.” 

“I’ll figure out if there’s something new we could make with rabbit or pheasant, and bring some ingredients along,” Nicole agreed. “Or you could come into town with me, if you’d like. If you want to see Gus and Curtis or anybody.”

“Maybe another time,” Waverly said. “I want to get back to Frankie so she can have her breakfast too.” 

“Okay,” Nicole pulled Waverly for a tight hug and a quick forehead kiss. The forehead kiss was new, and Nicole wasn’t sure what came over her. But when she started to pull away in case Waverly hadn’t liked it, Waverly squeezed her closer, and held on a few seconds longer. 

“See you tomorrow,” Nicole said, when they finally parted. Waverly just nodded, then turned to head back up the mountain.

***

That afternoon found Nicole in the woods again, but unfortunately, not on her way to see Waverly. She was out on a call, from a woman named Mrs. Gribbs who lived on the outskirts of Purgatory and swore she had seen two men lurking around in the trees outside her home. 

Nicole wore her department-issue uniform of khakis, button-up, and Stetson. Her bomber-style jacket with Purgatory Sheriff Department patches on the arms was tossed on the passenger seat of the cruiser. Mrs. Gribbs’s house was a small white farmhouse, with fresh shingles but peeling paint on the siding. An ancient-looking Golden Retriever lounged in the shade under the porch, barely lifting its head to acknowledge Nicole’s presence.

Nicole’s heavy work boots crunched through the dry fallen leaves. She heard the shrill call of a bird--redtail hawk, maybe--and wondered how Frankie and Waverly were doing. Nicole didn’t have much time for daydreaming, though, because the moment she stepped her boot onto the wooden porch, a shotgun barrel poked out the window next to the front door.

Instinctively pulling her own gun and pointing it at the window, Nicole shouted, “Sheriff's deputy, drop your weapon!”

The gun disappeared back into the house, and old Mrs. Gribbs’s face poked out of the open window in its place. “You’re the sheriff?” she asked. “Well, ’bout time you got here!”

Nicole spent the next hour perched gingerly on Mrs. Gribbs’s floral corduroy couch, a cup of watery lemonade in her hands. She’d heard the description of the two men a few times now, as well as where Mrs. Gribbs saw them. She was itching to get out there and look around, but was having trouble ending the conversation. Mrs. Gribbs was bragging about her son, who as far as Nicole could tell was a forty-something divorced tax attorney, and it was starting to feel like Mrs. Gribbs was going to try to set her up. So when the old woman offered to go get the albums of her son’s baby photos to share, Nicole cut her off, thanking her for the lemonade and saying she really needed to get out there and look around if they were going to catch those trespassers. Mrs. Gribbs’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, honey. Did I mention they had a shovel? Up to no good, that’s for sure.”

Finally free, Nicole walked out to the treeline at the edge of Mrs. Gribbs’s property and started to look around, working east from where the old woman indicated she last saw the strange men. Nicole saw an unusual disturbance in the dried leaves that covered the forest floor, almost as if something heavy had been dragged across them. But there was no blood or evidence of any kind, aside from the scraped dirt and crushed leaves.

She kept moving, her heart pounding. She felt like she was already on edge--for weeks, really; ever since Waverly had described the revenants to her. It had made her protective instincts take over, every part of her straining with the need to keep Waverly safe. 

A few meters deeper into the woods, Nicole came across an unusual-looking area among some boulders. A closer examination showed a sort of border in the soil, as if someone had been digging, and then replaced the dirt after they presumably found what they wanted (or, Nicole supposed, came up empty-handed and gave up). Nicole knelt down to examine the area more closely. The soil seemed freshly overturned, which lined up with what Mrs. Gribbs said about seeing the men with the shovel. Nicole pulled out her camera and took a few photos, and jotted down notes about her observations and exact location. 

Maybe it was nothing, but it certainly was odd. This was still Mrs. Gribbs’s land, and she had said she didn’t even know any of the young men around town these days, and would have no reason for any of them to be on her property. 

***

That evening, Nicole sat in Nedley’s office and filled him in on what she’d found. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his moustache thoughtfully. “And she didn’t know why anyone would be digging around on her land?”

“No, sir. Didn’t have a clue.”

Nedley picked up the photos and notes again, and studied them closely. “Well, could be nothing. Maybe someone burying their family pet, for all we know. But let’s keep an ear out, especially for anything strange going on out on the edge of town.”

“Yes, sir.” Nicole moved to get up and exit Nedley’s office, but he held his palm up to stop her. 

“I wanted to talk to you about that, actually. You’ve been spending a lot of time up at the Earp homestead with Waverly, right?” 

Nicole shifted uncomfortably, unsure what he was getting at. “Well, yes, sir. We’ve become friends. And I’ve been helping her chop some wood for the winter; things like that.” 

Nedley nodded. “Yeah, I think it’s real good what you’ve been doing for her. I just wanted you to know I put in another request to the county for a forest ranger position. If you’re still interested, you’ll be my first choice if they approve it.”

“Yeah? Really?” Nicole sat up straighter, eager. “I’m definitely interested. I mean, I’d want to know the details, I guess. But I really love being out in the woods and maintaining the trails.” 

“Well,” said Nedley. “I can’t promise anything. And I’d still need you on regular patrol sometimes. But, wouldn’t hurt to keep getting to know the mountains and forest in the meantime.” 

Nicole thought she caught the hint of a smile playing at the corner of Nedley’s mouth. “Yes, sir,” she said. “I can definitely do that.”


	6. Chapter 6

Christmas brought Waverly down to Purgatory. It was the first time she’d be spending the night in town since leaving for the homestead over the summer. It was bitterly cold, and the wind whipped across her face and seeped into the gap between her coat and gloves. Frankie was snug in the hayloft of the barn, content after a breakfast of rabbit that she’d caught in the meadow. Waverly left a small window open in the barn, and Frankie could fly in and out of there as she pleased. 

The first snowfall had come and gone, as had the second, leaving the fields around the homestead blanketed in icy-white. Part of her wished she could just spend Christmas with Nicole at the homestead, even if it meant a buffet of energy bars and dried fruit. Actually, they’d gotten quite skilled at ice fishing together at the river, and at preparing stews and kabobs with the rabbits and pheasants Frankie caught them. And the house got so cozy when the curtains were drawn and a fire was roaring in the fireplace. A coziness that was sounding pretty good right about now, she thought, crunching across the frozen Ghost River in her heavy snow boots. 

When she arrived at Curtis and Gus’s house, dinner prep was in full swing. Curtis was poking cloves into a ham, and Gus was chopping vegetables for an elaborate salad that was bursting with carrots, radishes, artichoke hearts, and kale. They both fussed over Waverly, taking her coat and bringing her a mug of hot tea to warm up with. 

“Where’s your bird, Waverly?” Curtis asked, as he lifted a lid to check on a pot that was bubbling away on the stove. 

“Oh, she’s up in the barn. I left the window open and she had plenty to eat this morning, so she’ll be fine on her own for a day or two.” 

“Probably for the best,” Gus said, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. “You’d have been welcome to bring her, of course, but I wasn’t exactly sure what we were gonna do with her.” 

Waverly laughed. She snagged a peppermint candy from a little dish on the kitchen table and popped it in her mouth. “Is Nicole here yet?” she asked casually. Nicole was supposed to join them for Christmas dinner, but had been scheduled to work in the morning. 

“Not yet, hon,” said Curtis. “I expect she’ll be around soon, if she can get away. Gus told her dinner’s at five. Matter of fact, I’d better go fetch some firewood from the shed.” He patted Waverly’s shoulder fondly, and grabbed his coat from the hook by the door.

Waverly pitched in to help with the meal, scrubbing the baking potatoes from Gus’s garden. She cleared the dirt away from their golden-brown skins with a coarse brush, reveling in the luxury of water that was warm right out of the tap.

Gus joined her at the sink, choosing a potato from Waverly’s clean pile and beginning to peel it. “Waverly,” she began, clearing her throat.

Waverly bristled slightly, her mind instantly scrolling through scenarios, trying to predict what Gus was about to tell her. 

Gus rested the peeler against the sink for a moment, then picked up another potato. “I got a letter from Wynonna yesterday,” she said, as she expertly flicked pieces of peel into the sink. “Says she’s coming back in the spring, like we thought.” 

“Oh, Gus.” Waverly turned off the water, and looked at her aunt. “That’s good, right? Is everything okay with her?” 

Gus shrugged, nodded. “Suppose so. She sounded clear-headed in the letter, so that’s something, at least. And, well...I suppose it’ll be good for you to talk to her. Doesn’t seem like you’re gonna let go of this,” she gestured vaguely with her peeler, “_research_ you’re doing, whether she’s here or not.” 

Waverly turned over a couple of the potatoes in the sink, checking for missed dirt, even though she knew she’d cleaned them well. “It’s just...I don’t know, Gus. It’s important to me. If all the stuff Wynonna talked about--and Daddy, too--if all of it is true, we need to be ready. And if it’s not true, what’s the harm in a little research?”

Gus smiled at her, looking a little sad. “I just want you to live your life, Waverly. Your life, not hers. That’s all I ever wanted.” 

Waverly blinked at her, eyes prickling with tears. She shook her head slightly, willing them not to fall. “I know.” 

Gus nodded. “I’ll let you finish the potatoes, hon. But then you go relax for a bit, yeah?” She started to walk away. 

“Gus?”

“Hm?” Gus stopped at the kitchen doorway, resting her hand on the counter.

“Can I read the letter?” Waverly asked. 

Gus regarded Waverly for a moment, then nodded. “Sure. I’ll set it on the coffee table for you.” 

When she’d finished in the kitchen, Waverly snuggled deep into Curtis’s armchair under a wool blanket. Wynonna’s letter was short, and didn’t tell her much beyond what Gus already had. Just that she’d be back in Purgatory in the spring. She didn’t acknowledge her birthday, or the significance of turning twenty-seven. But still, it was all Wynonna--her slanted, hurried handwriting. And the reason she’d given for her return was so very Wynonna, too: she’d run out of Greek men to sleep with. Waverly laughed, and read the letter a second time. She wished she could hear her sister’s voice, but reading her words came close. 

Waverly put the letter back in its envelope on the coffee table and turned on the television, enjoying the chance to lose herself in a mindless game show; something she hadn’t done in months. Gus brought her a fresh mug of tea, she could see snow beginning to fall outside the window, and the house was starting to fill with good, Christmassy smells from the kitchen.

But still, she realized, the picture wasn’t quite complete.

About twenty minutes later, she heard a soft knock on the kitchen door; heard Gus and Curtis’s exclamations over Nicole as they welcomed her into the warmth of their farmhouse. Waverly got up and shuffled over to the kitchen entryway, still wrapped up in her blanket.

Nicole stood just inside the door, her hair damp from the falling snow. Her jacket was hung neatly on the coat hook, but she still wore her uniform. 

Waverly hadn’t seen Nicole in her uniform since the summer--she always made a point to shower and change after a shift before she headed up to the mountain--and this was a new one. Gone were the khakis; in their place was a pair of slim-fitting dark-blue pants that hugged Nicole’s muscular legs, with a matching button-up shirt tucked in neatly at the waist, the top two buttons undone. 

Waverly realized she’d been staring when she heard “Hey, Waverly,” and her gaze snapped back up to meet Nicole’s, who smiled kindly. “Merry Christmas.” 

“Merry Christmas, Nicole,” said Waverly. She itched to go welcome her with a hug, but suddenly felt self-conscious in front of Curtis and Gus. She wasn’t sure why, except that her friendship with Nicole felt like a precious, private thing, that she wanted to keep safe and close.

Nicole turned her attention to the busyness of the kitchen. “What can I help with?” she asked. 

“Actually,” said Gus, “Would you mind getting the good plates down from that top cabinet, dear? I can’t quite reach them, and I’m not sure where I left the stepstool.” 

“Of course!” said Nicole. She reached up to get the china, her body stretching out strong and lean as she grabbed a stack of plates. 

Waverly cleared her throat and realized she desperately needed to find something to do. She wasn’t sure why seeing Nicole in her uniform was having such an effect on her, or what that _meant,_ exactly, but she just knew the jello needed her attention, like, right now. 

***

Nicole thought she’d never had a lovelier Christmas. Back home with her parents, they’d only halfheartedly celebrated so that Nicole and her brother wouldn’t feel left out at school. Once they had become teenagers, even that fell by the wayside, so that the holiday was hardly even acknowledged. And in more recent years, Nicole had always spent the day studying or training. So this immersion in the tradition and comfort of Christmas was really lovely. The festive red tablecloth, the candles, the wine, the Christmas crackers and little tissue-paper crowns. 

After dinner, they all played Pictionary, with Waverly and Nicole handily beating Gus and Curtis. When the game ended, Nicole leaned back on the couch as they all talked, resting her arm over the back of it behind Waverly’s shoulder. At one point, Nicole caught Gus looking at her with an expression she couldn’t quite place. She pulled her arm back then, and kept her hands folded in her lap. 

But that didn’t stop Waverly from being close to her, leaning in to whisper the backstory to a family inside joke, or resting her hand on Nicole’s knee as she laughed. Whether from the red wine or the closeness of Waverly, Nicole was feeling so warm and happy she could almost burst. 

“We’d best be heading up to bed, don’t you think, Curtis?” Gus asked, finally. 

“I could take Nicole back to her place--” he started to offer. But Gus put her hand on his arm. 

“Curtis, the girl is a sheriff’s deputy. I think she can handle herself.” She turned to Nicole. “‘Course, you’re always welcome to spend the night on our couch if you’d rather not head back this late.” 

“Thank you, Mrs. McCready,” said Nicole. “I think I’ll be all right.”

Gus nodded to both of them, then stood and held out her hand for Curtis to follow.

Once Curtis and Gus were upstairs, Waverly drained the last of her glass of red wine, then settled close into the crook of Nicole’s arm, sighing contentedly, her legs tucked under her on the couch. “This is really nice,” she whispered.

Nicole closed her eyes, steadying herself against the way it felt to have Waverly so close that her breath tickled her neck. “Yeah,” she agreed after a moment. “I think it’s the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

Waverly rested her hand on the couch cushion between them, next to Nicole’s, the edges of their fingers just slightly touching. Nicole gave in to the warmth and the wine, and covered Waverly’s hand with her own, squeezing it gently. Waverly squeezed back, and didn’t let go. 

“I have a gift for you,” Nicole said quietly, after a moment. 

Waverly raised her head from Nicole’s shoulder and looked at her, a smile brightening her face. “Yeah?” 

Nicole nodded, schooling a serious expression on her face. “Yep. It’s just outside the door. I didn’t want to bring it inside when Gus and Curtis were around.”

Waverly sat more upright, her eyebrows raised. “Okay, I’m very curious about what that means,” she said. “Can I see it?”

Nicole pretended to think for a moment, and Waverly poked her ribcage teasingly, eliciting a laugh. “Yeah. Come on.” 

They crept through the darkened house together, the kitchen illuminated only by the soft lights under the cabinets. Nicole pulled open the door and stepped out for a minute while Waverly waited inside, pulling the blanket tighter around herself against the cold gust of air. 

“Here it is!” said Nicole, setting a wide, thin package wrapped in silver paper in front of Waverly with a flourish. 

Waverly dropped her blanket, forgetting the cold, and started to tear the paper. “Help me open it!” she encouraged Nicole, elbowing her. 

Nicole grabbed a corner and ripped too, and the paper fell away to reveal a bright-pink, two-seater plastic sled. 

Waverly’s eyes went wide with delight, and she squealed. “Oh my god, Nicole! This is going to be SO much fun on the mountain. And we can both fit!” She grabbed Nicole for a tight hug, then turned back to admire the sled again.

Nicole watched Waverly, how her eyes were bright with excitement, and her cheeks looked so flushed and pretty. She had known Waverly would like the gift, though she wished she could’ve given her something a little more...personal. The sled felt like a safe, _friends_ sort of present. She was relieved that Waverly was so delighted by it. 

“Thank you,” Waverly said, smiling at Nicole again. “It almost makes me excited for a really big snow. I can’t wait to try it out.” 

“Me too,” Nicole said. She checked her watch. “I should get going,” she added, grabbing her coat from the rack. 

Waverly leaned against the counter. “You could stay? Gus said it was fine.” 

Nicole wanted to. She ached with the want of it, to stay wrapped in this bubble of warmth and Waverly all night. But there was also a kind of heartache from being so near. _Friends_ was so much, but not enough. She shook her head. “That’s okay. I don’t want to impose on Gus and Curtis any more than I have. Besides, I have an early shift tomorrow.”

Waverly nodded, biting her lip. “Okay.” She wrapped herself up in her blanket again while Nicole put on her coat, and walked Nicole to the door, stepping just outside into the night. Nicole turned to face her. 

“Thanks again, really. Tonight was perfect.” 

“Was it?” asked Waverly. “I didn’t give you your gift yet.”

Nicole raised her eyebrows, surprised. “I guess I wasn’t expecting one,” she smiled. 

Waverly just looked at her for a moment, and tilted her head slightly, her eyes searching Nicole's. Nicole thought she’d never seen a prettier sight than Waverly Earp wrapped in a flannel blanket, her face dotted with perfect little snowflakes. No present could compare to that.

“Well, it’s something I’ve wanted to give you for a long time,” Waverly said softly, taking a step forward and resting her hand on Nicole’s chest. Nicole’s breath caught, and she wondered if Waverly could feel how fast her heart was beating, under her palm. 

“What is it?” Nicole asked. 

“Close your eyes,” said Waverly, and Nicole obeyed. 

A breeze kicked up, and Nicole felt the brisk wind across her hair, the delicate cold of the snowflakes on her face. The solid sturdiness of her boots on the frozen ground. The soft, warm press of Waverly’s lips against her own.


	7. Chapter 7

“Waves,” breathed Nicole softly, when their lips parted. Waverly’s eyes fluttered open prettily, and Nicole smiled. Waverly smiled back, cupping Nicole’s face in her warm hands. The blanket had fallen from her shoulders at some point while they were kissing, but Waverly didn’t care. She felt tingly and exhilarated.

“Nicole,” Waverly replied, and kissed her again. 

“I...have wanted to kiss you for a really, really long time,” Nicole laughed softly, leaning her forehead against Waverly’s. 

“I would have kissed you back. For a really, really long time.” Waverly smoothed Nicole’s shirt collar, fixing where it was folded wrong under her jacket. She could feel Nicole’s heartbeat, strong and fast. 

Nicole tipped her head back and groaned, and Waverly laughed again. “So, I take it that was okay with you?” Waverly asked. She was pretty sure it was, from the way Nicole had responded to the kiss. But reassurance was always nice. 

“More than,” replied Nicole. “This is already my new favorite thing.” But then she sighed, and looked around at the dark, quiet farmland. 

“It’s getting late, huh?” said Waverly. She reached up and tucked a loose strand of Nicole’s hair behind her ear. “I know you have to be up early for work.”

“Yeah, I guess I should get home. But first...can I just kiss you one more time?” She grinned, her dimples in full effect. 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

***

The deep freeze of early January seemed to whip Bobo’s crew into a frenzy. Sheriff calls in December had been relatively slow, although they had responded to two more calls about suspected trespassers that led to the discovery of more holes dug in the woods. What they were digging for, Nicole and the other deputies never learned. But she guessed they hadn’t found it, since they seemed to be taking out their frustrations on the other residents of Purgatory now that the ground was frozen solid. 

Nedley gathered Nicole, Lonnie, and James together in his office to discuss how to manage the uptick in petty theft and general mayhem. Much to Nicole’s relief, she wasn’t assigned to extra patrols at Shorty’s, herding the drunks--that fell to James. 

“Nicole,” said Nedley, pulling a thin file from his desk drawer. “I want you out at the trailer park this week. See if you can figure out any more about the digs we discovered last month, since we hit a dead end there.” 

Nicole nodded, accepting the file and opening it with interest. It contained a few photos of Bobo Del Rey, a wolfish-looking man with slicked back hair and a beard. There were photos of his associates, too, along with a list of addresses of trailers Nedley thought were worth checking out.

Nicole took the file back to her desk to look through more carefully and start making notes. She compared the photos from the file to the descriptions of the trespassers she’d gotten from Mrs. Gribbs. There was a possible match, but Mrs. Gribbs hadn’t given her much to go on.

For her first visit out to the trailer park, Nicole went in plainclothes, with her auburn hair tucked up under a slouchy gray beanie, under the ruse of visiting a boy whose stolen bike she’d helped recover the week before. 

Purgatory’s trailer park was a depressing place, especially in January. Most of the trailers were old, probably from the early nineties. The yard was bleak, covered in dirty, frozen snow studded with the occasional cigarette butt, and most of the residents appeared to be shut up inside their trailers to keep warm, save for a few gray-bearded men who were gathered around a firepit and taking swigs from bottles half-assedly concealed in wrinkled brown-paper lunch bags. 

Nicole knew where Jared’s family’s trailer was, but she walked around a bit first, taking note of the trailer addresses Nedley had written in his file. When she saw one of the men at the firepit watching her and saying something in the ear of the man next to him, though, Nicole decided to wrap up her tour. 

She knocked on the thin metal door of Jared’s trailer, and his mom, Tiffany, answered. She was young, maybe Nicole’s age, and looked suspicious at first, until it clicked that Nicole was the woman who’d helped her son.

“Officer Haught! I almost didn’t recognize you. Is everything okay?”

“Yes, of course,” Nicole reassured her quickly, knowing that a visit from the cops here usually meant trouble. “I was just in the area and thought I’d say a quick hello to Jared.”

Tiffany disappeared back into the trailer, leaving the door ajar, which Nicole took as her signal to follow. She entered the small trailer, feeling as though she should duck her head, even though the ceiling was a couple of centimeters taller than her. Papers and a couple boxes of cereal covered the small table, and a space heater hummed loudly from where Tiffany had been folding baskets of laundry from a recent trip to the laundromat. 

“Jared’s not here; he went off into town with some of his friends,” Tiffany said, resuming her folding. 

“Oh, okay. Well, let him know I said hello. I hope he’s keeping that bike locked up.”

“I think so. He was real proud of that lock you gave him,” said Tiffany. “Keeps the key on a chain around his neck.” 

Nicole smiled. “That’s really sweet,” she said. She sat down next to Tiffany on the edge of the bench that ran along the inside wall of the trailer. “While I’m here, I thought I’d ask if you’ve noticed anything strange going on here in the trailer park? We’ve had a lot more problems in town lately, with people causing trouble, and some of them live out this way. Anyone been bothering you guys?”

Tiffany shook her head. “Not more’n usual, anyway,” she shrugged. “Though the men seem bored.”

Nicole raised her eyebrows. “How so?”

“Oh, just drinkin’ more, and earlier in the day. Maybe it’s all this cold weather, making people restless. Cabin fever. Well, trailer fever.” 

“Do you know the names of any of these people?” Nicole asked, pulling the photos from Nedley’s file out of her jacket pocket.

Tiffany looked through the photos, then eyed Nicole as if she just remembered they weren’t meant to be on the same side. “Well that one’s Carl, I know you’ve picked him up before. Can’t say I know the others, though.” 

Nicole wasn’t sure if she was telling the truth, but didn’t want to push her luck. “Okay. I just want to make sure you and Jared are safe, is all.” She handed Tiffany her card. “If you have any trouble, just call, or stop by the station and ask for me.”

Tiffany seemed to relax again, as if the mention of Jared warmed her to Nicole once more. “Sure,” she said easily, shifting a stack of jeans to the side and starting on folding athletic shorts. 

“All right, then,” Nicole said. “I’ll see you around. Please do tell Jared I said hello.” 

Tiffany nodded, but made no move to get up, so Nicole showed herself out, pulling the door firmly behind her until she heard the latch click into place. 

The men she’d seen by the firepit were gone now; their fire extinguished. The whole trailer park, in fact, appeared empty. Nicole was glad to leave. 

***

Waverly walked down to Purgatory the next morning. She had woken up feeling unusually nostalgic for the little town, and craving a grilled cheese from Shorty’s.

Her first stop was the sheriff’s station. But when Nedley told her Nicole was out doing casework, she asked after Chrissy. Nedley replied that Chrissy was “bored at home and driving me crazy,” so Waverly laughed and called her from the station’s reception desk, and arranged to meet her for lunch.

Walking into Shorty’s, Waverly felt like Purgatory’s prodigal daughter. She barely made it in the door before being intercepted by Shorty, who wrapped her up in a big bear hug and admonished her for not visiting sooner. She chatted with the bartenders and the regulars, slowly making her way over to the booth where Chrissy was waiting with a rum and Coke and an amused expression. 

“You sure are popular, Waves,” observed Chrissy as Waverly slid into the booth across from her. 

“It’s so nice!” Waverly replied. “I honestly didn’t think anyone here would even notice I was gone.” 

“Are you kidding?” said Chrissy, good-naturedly. “You’re practically all anyone will talk to me about.”

They ordered, and Waverly dug into her grilled cheese and fries while Chrissy filled her in on the latest Purgatory gossip, and Waverly told Chrissy about hunting with Frankie. Chrissy seemed both disgusted and impressed by the idea of eating falcon-caught game. 

It took Waverly two glasses of rum and Coke to muster the courage. Chrissy was talking about how stressed her dad was with work, and how the other deputies were putting in extra time to help tamp down the recent disturbances around town. “Especially Nicole; my dad says she’s been a huge help in figuring out the connections between--” 

“I kissed her,” Waverly blurted out, bracing her hands on the edge of the table in front of her.

“What? You kissed who? ...You kissed NICOLE?” Chrissy whisper-shouted, looking completely surprised. 

Waverly closed her eyes for a second and nodded, then opened them again. “The first time was on Christmas, when she was leaving Gus and Curtis’s place. And...a couple of times since.”

Chrissy just stared at her for a second, then got up and walked away from the booth. Waverly sank down in her seat, a pit forming in her stomach.

But Chrissy returned just a few moments later, two more rum and Cokes in hand, and set one down in front of Waverly before taking a long drink from her own. 

“Okay,” Chrissy said when she set her glass down in front of her. She stacked her plate on top of Waverly’s and slid them to the end of the booth, then folded her hands in front of her. “Tell me everything.” 

And so Waverly told her best friend--the one she’d whispered to about boys at sleepovers, the one she’d gone to when she started dating Champ but just felt empty inside, the one she’d told that she was secretly afraid she simply wasn’t capable of romantic love--how she’d fallen for Nicole Haught.

“It was the wood-chopping, wasn’t it?” said Chrissy, nodding sagely as she took another drink. “I’ve seen her muscles under her uniform. I bet watching her swing an axe in a tank top would turn anybody gay.” 

Waverly giggled and threw a napkin at Chrissy. The fact that Chrissy was joking with her about this, teasing about how bad Waverly had it just like if she’d had a crush on a guy, was everything. Between the relief and the rum, Waverly was feeling light and buzzy inside. 

“I mean, it was partly the wood-chopping,” Waverly grinned. “She’s just so strong, and so kind, and so goddamn attractive.”

“Oh, little Earp. You’ve got it bad.” Chrissy raised her glass to Waverly, who clinked her own against it. 

“So, of course, I’m terrified,” said Waverly. “I had decided to go off and live by myself in the woods, you know? Just get away from everyone and do my research, until Wynonna comes back.”

Chrissy made a little face at that, like she didn’t really believe Wynonna ever would. Waverly ignored it. 

“So now that’s all messed up, and I don’t even know what she wants. I mean, I didn’t even know she was gay!”

“Okay, first of all,” Chrissy said, leaning forward. “Fit lady cop? Come on.”

“That is a stereotype,” said Waverly. Chrissy rolled her eyes. “Anyway,” Waverly continued, “What if I’m, like, falling for her, but she just wants a one-night stand or something?”

“Oh, come on, you don’t believe that,” scoffed Chrissy. “That girl’s been hauling your shit up into the mountains for months. Nobody would do that for someone they just wanted to bang once and walk away from.” 

Waverly frowned. “Well, no, I don’t really think so. But I’ve just...never really had a legit relationship at all, let alone with a woman. I have no idea what I’m doing, and it feels super complicated.”

“Listen to me,” Chrissy said, taking Waverly’s hands in her own and waiting until Waverly met her eyes. “Listen. This is only complicated if you make it complicated.” 

Waverly thought about that for a minute, let the words sink in. “You’re right, Chrissy. It can just be simple, right? Like...I like her, and she likes me, and we’ll just...enjoy that.” 

“That’s better,” Chrissy said, leaning back again. “That’s all you need to know.”

***

Waverly hung out with Chrissy a while longer at Shorty’s, playing a few games of pool as the rum wore off. When it was time for Chrissy to leave, she made Waverly pinkie swear to call her next time she came down to town and update her “on your whole lesbian situation,” which made Waverly laugh. 

After that, Waverly said goodbye to Shorty, who shoved a foil packet in her hand. “Made some brownies,” he said gruffly. “Thought you could take ’em back with you.”

“Thanks, Shorty,” Waverly said, genuinely touched. She knew baking was one of Shorty’s hidden talents, that he rarely got to put into use at the bar.

When Waverly got to the sheriff’s station, Nicole looked up in surprise from her desk, where she had papers spread out over every surface inch. “Waverly!” she exclaimed, scrambling to her feet. “Is everything all right?” 

Waverly held up a palm in reassurance. “Totally fine!” 

Nicole sat back down, looking relieved. “Good. I just didn’t expect to see you here!”

Waverly sat on the edge of Nicole’s desk. “I was bored, and kinda missed you. But when I got here, Nedley said you were out working. So I hung out with Chrissy for a bit.” She booped Nicole’s nose with the tip of her finger. “I’m glad to see you.”

Nicole grinned that beautiful grin that Waverly adored. “Me too,” she said. “Everyone else is out on patrol, but I wanted to come back here to go through all my notes. I’ve been working on tracking Bobo’s crew all day--and actually, I thought you could help me identify some of these guys. Maybe you’d recognize them from Shorty’s, or from your research. Wanna see?”

Waverly nodded, and Nicole handed her the stack of photos she’d been reviewing. There were a few mugshots from guys like Carl who’d ended up at the station for more serious offenses. The other photos were ones that she or Nedley had snapped while out on duty, as they tried to piece together which men were working together and why.

“This one looks familiar,” said Waverly, pointing to a photo Nicole had of the man she suspected of stealing Jared’s bike. “Check out his nose--how it looks like it’s been broken, and he has a scar there? I feel like we’ve seen that in the old photos I have.”

“I think you’re right,” Nicole said, squinting at the photos. “The ones in your dad’s journal, right? But if he’s a revenant, why would he be trying to steal a kid’s bike?”

Waverly shook her head. “Don’t know. Maybe he’s just bored? Like, just messing with people to kill time until the heir comes back.” 

Nicole nodded. “Such a pain in my ass, though. I just wish I could figure out what they’ve been digging for. I feel like then I would know if they’re building up for something dangerous--or, if they really are just bored or something.”

“That’s right,” said Waverly. “You said someone was digging out at Mrs. Gribbs’s farm a while back. You think it’s the same guys?”

“Yeah--in fact, there were two other digs that Nedley and Lonnie found. Same thing, where it looked like someone dug a hole but then just filled it back up. Nothing recently, though, since the ground is frozen.”

Waverly looked thoughtful. “I wonder if they’re looking for the gun,” she said.

Nicole looked up at her. “Wyatt’s gun? The one you mentioned that killed the revenants in the first place?”

“Right,” said Waverly. “My dad used to carry it with him all the time. But when we were teenagers, Wynonna took off with it and hid it somewhere.” Waverly paused, looking down at all the photos spread out on the desk before them. “I think she felt like that gun was evil, like if she got it away from us, maybe she’d get rid of the curse.” She smiled wryly. “It probably didn’t work.”

“Did Wynonna tell you anything about where it might be? Or do you think she wrote it down somewhere or anything? Maybe we can find it before they do.” Nicole said. 

Waverly shook her head. “No, she didn’t tell me. I’ve looked around at the house a little, but haven’t found anything there. And honestly, it didn’t occur to me that the revenants would be looking for it too...but maybe they are.”

Nicole nodded. “If I were a revenant, I guess I’d want to find the gun that could send me back to hell, too.” 

***

Waverly had to leave to head back up the mountain a short time later. Nicole had to work until past dark, so she wouldn’t be able to go up to the homestead until the next day. But she kissed Waverly right there in the empty station, in Nedley’s darkened office. They kissed and kissed until Waverly’s knees felt weak, and she knew she needed to get out of there before she dragged Nicole over to the couch and climbed on top of her. 

They kissed all the way over to the front door, bumping clumsily against desks and chairs along the way. Nicole grabbed her coat and beanie, and holstered her weapon. “I’ll walk with you a little way,” she told Waverly, squeezing her hand once before dropping it to pull on her gloves. “I need to get out of the station for a few minutes, anyway, and clear my head.” 

They started out down Main Street, Waverly with a bag slung over her shoulder that held the brownies Shorty had given her. Nicole’s hand brushed against Waverly’s every once in a while as they walked side by side, and she had a wild urge to hold Waverly’s hand. Reaching for it felt like such a natural, obvious thing to do that she had to shove her hands in her pockets to resist. Aside from not being totally sure whether they were at the hand-holding stage of things, Nicole also mentally reminded herself that she was technically on duty, and in uniform. And Main Street was busier than it had been since probably October, since they were in the middle of a bizarre yet very welcome late-winter heat wave, with temperatures above freezing and a sunny, cloudless sky. Lots of Purgatory residents were out chatting on the sidewalks and ducking in and out of shops. Nicole even saw a teenage boy wearing shorts. 

After a couple blocks, Nicole stopped. “Guess I’d better get back to the station,” she said. “As much as I’d love to just go to the homestead with you right now.” 

“I know,” said Waverly, smiling. “I wish you could, too. But someone’s gotta keep this town under control.”

Nicole laughed. She hesitated, glancing around. There were still quite a few people nearby, walking or driving past. 

Waverly reached out and squeezed her hand briefly, then let go. Her eyes seemed to acknowledge that their goodbye would be different if they were alone. 

***

As Nicole lay in bed that night, her mind kept going back to Waverly’s visit. Seeing Waverly perched there on the edge of her desk, visiting her at work, felt--it felt like a girlfriend thing; something Nicole had hardly dared hope for. She wished she could have gone up to the homestead with Waverly, and given her the attention she deserved.

Nicole’s hand started to drift lower, sliding over the smooth fabric of her pajamas, across her stomach, resting on her inner thigh. She felt restless and keyed up. But just imagining Waverly’s touch didn’t feel like enough anymore. Nicole sighed with frustration and turned on her side, willing sleep to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although there's some hesitation here about showing affection in public (mostly because Nicole was on duty) and Waverly was a little nervous in her talk with Chrissy, that's as angsty as I'm going to get about their relationship. Neither of them is going to have an identity crisis or question their desire to be together.


	8. Chapter 8

Nicole was jolted awake by the ringing of the phone on her nightstand. Her alarm clock read 5:34AM. 

“Hello?” she muttered groggily as she leaned back against her pillow with the phone at her ear, her eyes still closed. It was the first day of a very rare stretch of three days off, and she’d hoped to sleep until at least 7.

“Officer Haught? This is Tiffany. Jared’s mom.” There was a muffled, scraping sound then, as if Tiffany were whispering to someone who was in the room with her, and then closing a door. 

“Tiffany?” Nicole sat up in bed. “Is Jared okay?”

“Yes, yes, he’s fine--he’s here with me,” said Tiffany.

Nicole relaxed again. “What’s up?” 

“Well--” Tiffany paused for a long time. “So you know how you asked me to call you if I saw anything weird around the trailer park? I think Bobo and Carl and some of the other guys are up to something. They rented this, like, backhoe? And they’re all gathering up axes and crowbars and stuff, like they’re gonna go stir some shit up.” 

“Thanks, Tiffany,” said Nicole. “Really. I appreciate this. I’ll check it out.”

After she hung up, Nicole gulped down some instant coffee and shoved an energy bar in her backpack. She knew that going near the trailer park in her police cruiser would ruin any chance of observing what the revenants were up to, so she hopped on the bike that she was storing at her house for Waverly. 

A few stubborn stars still lingered overhead in the purpley-black sky. As she pedaled through the streets of Purgatory, Nicole was grateful that the previous day’s unusually warm weather had cleared the asphalt of slush and ice. 

When she reached the chain link fence that bordered the trailer park, Nicole didn’t see anyone. The trailers were mostly dark, save for one or two, but she could hear the distant hum of machinery. So she made her way carefully through the trailers, sticking to the shadows. 

Creeping out onto the road at the far end of the park was a small backhoe, followed by two ATVs. Nicole couldn’t make out who was driving them, but they were heading toward the mountains.

Giving the machines a wide berth, Nicole circled around through a cornfield. The ground was lumpy with half-frozen ruts of mud, and she kept almost losing her balance among the dry, brittle-brown cornstalks. 

The vehicles entered the woods at the trailhead, with apparently little regard for the fact that they were too wide for the trail and were mowing down the dormant grasses and small trees that lined it. 

At the river, the driver of the backhoe tried to take it across the ice and got stuck when it cracked through against the shallow rocks. Nicole took advantage of the ensuing chaos to cross the river herself further down, as the men climbed off their ATVs and began rigging up ropes to pull the backhoe out, swearing loudly at each other the whole time. 

Nicole cut through some underbrush to a little grove of white pines. She pulled a rope out of her pack and tossed it up to loop around a high branch, tightened and secured it, and began to climb. Fragrant pine sap gummed to her gloves, and pine needles scratched at her face as she navigated up through the branches until she had a good view. 

She recognized Bobo Del Rey immediately, both from the photos she’d seen and from what Nedley had told her. “Big fur coat like something a rich grandma would wear” was a particularly apt description. 

Bobo was supervising, and he paced, wolf-like, around the backhoe. The other men worked it loose from the mud and ice and got it a few meters further past the river’s edge before killing the engine.

“Boys,” announced Bobo, grandly. “This is it. The Blacksmith finally decided she was, shall we say, aligned with our interests after our friend Jack paid her a little visit. She said the final pieces we seek are here in these mountains. So we start with the most likely coordinates on this list, and we work our way down, even if it takes all day and all night.” 

The men grunted in affirmation.

“_All day and all night?_” thought Nicole. She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the tree trunk. This had, perhaps, been a bad idea.

***

Waverly felt like sunshine. The house was cold, and the day was gloomy, but she was bursting with brightness. She’d woken with the memory of Nicole’s lips on hers, and of the conversation with Chrissy that had made everything feel so simple and clear. She hummed to herself as she dressed methodically, choosing long underwear and woolen socks to wear under her usual outdoor work clothes. Laundry had become tedious in the winter, to the point that she’d started bringing at least some of it down to Curtis and Gus’s place when she went to town. Her sweater smelled like their farmhouse--sage, detergent, and woodsmoke. 

From a hook by the front door, Waverly grabbed the long leather glove and falcon jesses that Nicole had ordered for her shortly after they’d found Frankie. She pulled the glove up over the sleeve of her winter work coat, to protect it from Frankie’s sharp talons. 

Her bird was snug in the barn, settled on her favorite perch with one foot pulled up into her feathers for warmth. When she saw Waverly, Frankie puffed up and shook her feathers, and stretched her wings back in greeting. 

“I know you just want your breakfast,” Waverly teased sofly, smoothing her hand down the bird’s back. She really was beautiful, all grown up with steely-gray feathers and a regal golden beak. Waverly whistled softly and held out her arm, and Frankie climbed on. Waverly had her game bag looped over her shoulder. She hoped that Frankie would catch her a pheasant. She still hadn’t quite gotten used to dealing with rabbit.

As they went down a little path through the trees behind the barn, Waverly walked slowly, kicking at the underbrush. At first, Frankie just rode along on her shoulder. Then suddenly, when the woods cleared way to meadow, the bird flapped her strong wings and rose into the air, circling overhead, ready to strike at anything Waverly might stir up for her.

***

The cold had seeped into Nicole’s bones. The way she was sitting in the tree, her arms wrapped around the trunk, felt like she was hugging a block of ice. Gusts of wind whipped down the mountain, sending snow flurries dancing around her.

The men below her must have overestimated the recent warm spell, only to find that the ground was too frozen, still, for them to do any careful work with their shovels. They’d resorted to ripping big chunks of rocky, icy dirt from the ground with the backhoe, then chopping at it with pickaxes. Bobo sat smoking in the cab of the backhoe while the man Nicole had eventually recognized as Carl, and another they called Malcolm, worked. 

After what felt like a few hours--but might just as easily have been only twenty minutes--Malcolm chipped something small and white free from a chunk of dirt, and called the others over to see it. It must have been what they were looking for, because Bobo slapped him on the back enthusiastically, lit up another cigarette, and stuck whatever it was they’d found into a suitcase he’d pulled out of the backhoe’s cab. Nicole wished she had thought to bring her binoculars.

The three men worked a little longer in that same area, but soon packed up their equipment onto the ATVs and drove off, further up the mountain, leaving their backhoe behind. 

When the drone of the motors faded away, Nicole hurried to get down from the tree, sliding from branch to branch despite the stiffness in her arms and legs, and the numbness in her fingers. The vehicles had driven in the general direction of the homestead, though it seemed like they were headed a little further to the west. Still, though, Nicole could feel the anxiety clawing at her chest. She’d feel better if she were with Waverly.

She paused where the men had been digging--this time, they hadn’t even tried to cover their tracks; just left a gaping hole in the ground and chunks of overturned dirt everywhere. She picked up a few, turning them over in her hands, but didn’t linger long. Whatever the men had found there, they’d taken with them. Everything that was left just looked like normal dug-up soil. Nicole snapped a couple photos, then continued on through the woods, walking to the east toward the homestead.

Snow was starting to fall; big, fat flakes that rapidly covered the mud-worn trail. Nicole walked fast, head bent against the wind, chin tucked down into the collar of her jacket for warmth. She hopped over familiar rocks and logs, feeling her heart rate pick up slightly like it always did when she neared the homestead. 

But as she came over the little hill at the edge of the woods, Nicole stopped cold. Standing in the clearing between her and the homestead, only about 50 meters away, were Bobo, Carl, and Malcolm. 

It felt like slow motion, seeing the three men turn toward her all at once. They’d been looking at the homestead, standing next to the ATVs, their breaths and cigarette smoke hanging in the cold air around them like fog.

Bobo said something to the others that Nicole couldn’t hear, and jerked his chin in her direction. 

***

Waverly trudged through the snow and frozen mud, through barren brambles and clumps of grasses, but no wildlife jumped out. Rarely was the meadow so empty; it had seemed for a while like a never-ending supply of game. Frankie was bored too, circling lazily, and finally giving up and flapping down to rest on Waverly’s shoulder.

“Shall we head back without our lunch, then, pretty bird?” Waverly cooed, scratching Frankie’s chest gently as they walked back toward the woods.

But the falcon stood up alertly on Waverly’s shoulder then, her talons tightening. “Ouch!” exclaimed Waverly, reaching up to try to dislodge the painful claws. “What is it, Frankie?”

Frankie’s eyes were laser-focused through the woods toward the house, and she stretched up as if craning her neck to see. 

Waverly slowed, then. She’d learned, in her time here in the mountains, to pay close attention to what the animals were telling her about food, the weather--or danger. She stood for a moment, listening, her bird still alert. As far as she could tell, all was quiet. But she continued on slowly, stepping carefully and sticking close to the trees. When they reached the barn, Frankie still hadn’t settled. So Waverly looked around carefully when she stepped inside, checking the corners and the shadows. She found a hatchet lodged in a log where Nicole had split some kindling, and yanked it free. 

***

It was Carl who started walking toward Nicole then, muttering something to himself, his greasy, dirty-blond hair hanging over his face. 

“Stop right there!” Nicole yelled, whipping her gun out of its holster but still pointing it toward the ground, both her hands steady. 

Carl just looked at her, a smug smile spreading across his face. His hands were in his pockets, like she wasn’t even a threat, a detail that sent a wave of rage through Nicole. 

“I said, stand down! Stay where you are!” She raised her weapon. It felt cold in her hands. Behind him, the homestead was quiet, thin puffs of smoke trailing from the chimney. Was Waverly inside? Writing in her journal, perhaps, or working on the hickory-salt project she’d told Nicole about. Wildly, Nicole wondered about the ammolite mineral Waverly described. Would it protect her? How close to the homestead did it begin? 

Carl kept walking toward her. She tightened her grip on the gun. He walked faster. 

Nicole pointed her firearm to the side. “Stop where you are. Now. And hands where I can see them.” Carl shook his head, so Nicole fired a warning shot toward some shrubs to the left.

Carl’s smile twisted into something truly sickening then, and his eyes--his eyes glowed red. They turned dark and lifeless and hollow. “You stupid. _Fucking._ Bitch.” He growled, his voice low and animal-like.

***

Waverly was still by the kindling pile when she heard the shot. Frankie took off for her perch high in the hayloft, with a great flapping of wings. The sound seared through Waverly’s blood like ice, and she ran to the door, gripping the hatchet. Maybe it was a hunter. Maybe just a poacher trying to get a buck. But all she could think was _Nicole._

In the field in front of her stood two men with construction equipment. Further out, another man striding through the field, shouting profanities in a deep, guttural growl. And there at the edge of the woods was Nicole, with her gun drawn. 

Waverly’s grip tightened around the handle of the hatchet as she tried to steady herself against the wave of adrenaline that washed over her, her eyes darting among the men. If these were truly revenants, she didn’t think any gun but Wyatt’s would hurt them--that’s what her Daddy had told Wynonna. And Nicole was outnumbered. The hatchet might not be much help, but it was better than leaving Nicole to face them alone.

“HEY,” Waverly shouted. “Look over here, you son of a bitch!” 

Three men turned toward her. 

“Waverly, NO!” yelled Nicole. “NO!”

At the sound of her scream, Malcolm turned back and started to walk toward Nicole, too. 

The third man, though--the one in the big fur coat--he was standing still, his eyes locked on Waverly’s. She knew him immediately by reputation: Bobo Del Rey. Waverly held up the hatchet, but he made no move toward or away from her; just nodded slightly, tilting his head as if sizing her up. For the briefest moment, his eyes glowed, then went cold and empty again.

“Carl. Leave the deputy alone,” he called. “Malcolm. You too. I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding.” He raised his hands to Waverly, a gesture of truce. 

Carl and Malcolm froze just meters away from Nicole, as if considering Bobo’s order. Carl shook his head and grunted. “Lemme just take care of this whore quick, Bobo.” He laughed. “She got it comin’.”

Bobo didn’t even turn toward them. “My words. My law.” he growled.

Carl and Malcolm looked at each other, looked at Bobo. Carl spat on the ground in Nicole’s direction, then they went back to their ATVs. Bobo didn’t say anything else--just took a few steps backward, still holding Waverly’s gaze. He hopped on behind Malcolm, still facing backward, and raised his hand to his forehead in mock salute to Nicole as they drove away.

Nicole holstered her gun and ran to Waverly. “Oh my god,” she gasped, out of breath when she reached her. “Waverly, are you okay?”

Waverly nodded, still stunned, staring after the men. She looked at Nicole, then, seeing the worry in her searching eyes. Waverly leaned into Nicole, slumping against her chest. “God, Nicole,” she said. “I really thought they were going to hurt you. I was so scared.” 

Nicole rubbed her back. “Let’s get inside, yeah?” she said. She kissed Waverly’s forehead. “They’re gone now. Let’s get inside, we’ll lock the door, we’ll make a fire, we’ll figure out what the hell just happened.”

***

Nicole started the fire in the living room fireplace, and spread out a quilt in front of it. Waverly sat there quietly, watching the flames, while Nicole filled their canteens at the pump behind the house. She smiled gratefully when Nicole returned and set the fresh water in front of her.

“Okay, so…” began Nicole, sitting down cross-legged on the quilt next to Waverly. “What in the world was that?”

“That,” sighed Waverly, “Was Bobo.” 

“I recognized him from what Nedley told me,” agreed Nicole. “But did you see Carl? When I fired that warning shot, his eyes--they, like, turned red.” Nicole shook her head, almost doubting whether it had actually happened. “So...that was scary.”

Waverly nodded thoughtfully. “Remember I told you about how one of them kinda flipped out on me like that at Shorty’s one time? They get all demonic when they’re mad. I guess it’s, like, a revenant thing.”

“Freaky,” murmured Nicole. “They were digging for something in the woods--that’s why I followed them. I couldn’t tell what it was, though. Something small.”

Waverly leaned back against the wall, toying with the edge of the quilt. “It’s so frustrating that I’ve barely learned anything more about the curse since I came up here,” she said. “I’m still no closer to figuring out whether there’s another way to end it. Or even who all of the revenants are. I just feel like I’m missing something.”

Nicole thought for a moment. “Well, I guess in a way, you are. You said Wynonna is coming back in the spring, right?” 

Waverly nodded. 

“Well, maybe she’s the missing piece. Like, certain information just isn’t going to come to light without the heir, you know? But she’s going to really need you by her side, once she is here. She’ll need your research, and your help. If she’s going to face a family curse...she’ll need her sister.” Nicole took Waverly’s hand and kissed it. “Anyway, I don’t know what made them leave today, but I’m glad they did.”

“I don’t know either,” said Waverly. “It seemed like it was because Bobo saw me, but I don’t get why he’d leave because of me. I’m not the heir.”

Nicole shrugged. “Maybe he didn’t expect any Earps back at the homestead at all.” 

“Maybe,” said Waverly, hesitantly. “Anyway, I’m sorry you got caught up in this. Life is gonna be a little...strange...if you’re dating an Earp.”

Nicole smiled at that. “Are we dating?” she said lightly, teasing. 

“We are. Didn’t you get the memo?” Waverly grinned.

Nicole leaned forward and kissed her. “In that case--” she paused mid-sentence and kissed Waverly again. “Never mind all that stuff. This is the best day ever.”

Waverly laughed, but Nicole thought she still looked a bit sad. “Hey,” Nicole said softly. “I know there’s a lot going on with your family. But I’m a cop. I already chose a dangerous life.” 

Waverly raised an eyebrow. “But did you sign up for demons?”

Nicole nodded. “If you’re part of the package? Yeah. I signed up for demons.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The revenants' digging is pulled from canon--they were searching for the bones of Constance Clootie's sons.
> 
> The next chapter will be the last, and will be relationship-focused. :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is NSFW.

Later that day, after they’d eaten dinner--and after they had walked the perimeter of the homestead and into the adjacent woods to reassure themselves that Bobo’s men hadn’t returned--Nicole stood in the living room and ran her hand through her hair, suddenly self-conscious about the idea of climbing into bed with Waverly after her long day. 

“Everything all right?” Waverly asked, tilting her head up at Nicole.

“Yeah. It’s just...I kinda wish I could shower.” Nicole wrinkled her nose to indicate how she imagined she smelled. 

Waverly laughed. “You smell great, if that’s what you’re worried about. But if you’d like, we can set up the bath.”

Nicole nodded with relief. “That would be nice. So...how do you bathe now that it’s freezing outside?”

Waverly disappeared into a side room, then came out dragging a large metal washtub behind her, scraping against the wood floor. As far as bathtubs went, it was small, but it would work. “I just bring in buckets of water and warm them up by the fire,” she explained. “Then I have to empty it bucket by bucket, which is kind of annoying. But, anyway. I just used it myself this morning.”

“It’s very...quaint,” laughed Nicole. “It reminds me of books about pioneer days.” 

They filled the tub together, lugging heavy buckets of cold water in from the pump to warm in the washtub. As they waited, they stretched out together on the quilt, and Nicole filled Waverly in on the forest ranger job Nedley was trying to arrange for her. 

“That would be so cool!” Waverly said, after Nicole had explained it. “So you could spend more time outside, right? You’d be patrolling the trails and stuff?” 

Nicole nodded. “I’d still be a deputy and do traffic stops sometimes, and all that. Nedley can’t really afford someone being a ranger full time. But it would be cool. I really love being out in the woods.”

Waverly grinned. “That sounds awesome,” she said. She snuggled against Nicole, and stifled a yawn, feeling cozy and content there by the fire. 

“Tired?” chuckled Nicole. “I bet the water’s warm now. I should hurry up and take that bath.” A gust of wind rattled the glass in the windows, startling them. 

Nicole got up and padded over to the door to peer outside into the darkness. “Whoa, it’s really snowing out there!” she said. “I thought we were only supposed to get a centimeter or two, but I can barely see the barn.”

Waverly came over to stand next to her to look out at the snow, leaning her head on Nicole’s shoulder. “It’s pretty,” she said softly. “At least we know we have plenty of food and firewood.” 

“We do.” Nicole gave Waverly a quick kiss on the side of her head. “We made sure of that.”

“So,” said Waverly, breaking away from her to retrieve the washcloth and bar of soap from where she’d set them on the kitchen counter. “Go ahead and get washed up. I’ll go back to the bedroom to change, then set up the air mattress.”

Once Waverly had disappeared into one of the bedrooms, shutting the door firmly behind her, Nicole stripped down quickly and stepped into the bath. She was pleased to find that it had indeed warmed up by the fire--it was almost too warm, actually. She leaned back to wet her hair, then scrubbed all over with the soap and washcloth, glad to get clean after the long, stressful day. When she’d finished washing, she leaned against the back of the tub and sank down until she was up to her shoulders in the hot water, feeling it relax her sore muscles. The fire crackled and popped beside her, and she closed her eyes.

“Not looking, totally not looking, just a girl with an air mattress who is looking the other way!” Waverly announced loudly, walking into the living room with exaggeratedly loud steps. “Just looking at the wall and setting up this mattress, and not looking at the hot girl in the bathtub.” 

Nicole laughed. She squeezed the water out of her washcloth and lobbed it at Waverly, but it missed and landed with a wet slap by her feet. 

“Now you’re playing dirty, Haught,” said Waverly. “Still ignoring you, despite the foul play.”

“Well, keep ignoring me, because I’m getting out of this tub now,” said Nicole, as she picked up the towel that was folded neatly on the floor next to her, and stood, the water sloshing around her as she moved. 

At the sound of Nicole getting out, Waverly groaned and put her hands on her hips, her back still to Nicole. “Okay, now you’re really being unfair.” 

“Hey, I can’t help that I’m naked and wet and need to rub this towel all over my naked, wet body,” Nicole teased. 

“Mm-hmm. Well, let me know if you need any help,” said Waverly. 

The comment tugged at something low in Nicole’s gut. “...Right. I’m gonna need to focus now,” she said, half to herself. 

“Hey, you started it by being so hot in the tub, _Haught._”

***

This time, when they snuggled into bed beside the fireplace, they didn’t leave space between them. Instead, Waverly tucked herself right up against Nicole with a contented sigh. She tried to slow her breathing, to relax in the sleepy-warm feeling of being in bed together. They were both dressed in pajama shorts and tank tops, since it was so warm in the living room by the fire, and the feel of Nicole’s soft skin against her own was making Waverly a little dizzy. Waverly’s leg was slung over Nicole’s, and her hand rested on Nicole’s collarbone. She’d never been so aware of someone else’s body before--or of her own. She knew Nicole wasn’t wearing a bra; she could see the outline of her full breasts and hard nipples through the threadbare fabric of her tank, just inches away.

Nicole was quiet, her breathing steady, and for a brief moment Waverly wondered if she was asleep. But Nicole’s pulse was pounding against Waverly’s hand, fast and hard.

“Nicole?” Waverly whispered. She slid up higher on the pillow until her lips were right at the curve of Nicole’s jaw, brushing against it, butterfly-light. 

“Mmm?” murmured Nicole, unmoving. 

“Are you awake?”

“I am,” whispered Nicole, and she tilted her head down to press a soft kiss to Waverly’s forehead. 

In return, Waverly brushed her lips lightly against Nicole’s neck, just below her earlobe. When Nicole didn’t react, Waverly shifted and kissed her cheek, still just lightly. Then she raised herself up on her elbow, and kissed the corner of her mouth. Nicole’s lips parted slightly, her hand grasping at the hem of Waverly’s tank top, closing her fist around the fabric there as if holding herself steady. 

“Waverly,” murmured Nicole, her voice low.

Waverly shifted slightly again, her bare leg sliding further between Nicole’s, resting between them. She cupped Nicole’s cheek in her hand until Nicole’s eyes fluttered open and met hers in the soft glow of the firelight. “I need to tell you what I felt today,” Waverly said, softly. 

Nicole reached out and tucked Waverly’s hair behind her ear, then rested her hand on Waverly’s back, warm and solid, anchoring her, waiting. 

Waverly closed her eyes for a moment. “This morning, I was missing you. I was out in the meadow with Frankie, and I kept thinking about how you would have loved the beautiful morning out in the woods.” She met Nicole’s eyes again. “And then I saw you with the revenants, with your gun drawn, and I was so scared. But I also loved seeing you in action. You were steady and strong.”

Nicole smiled at that, and Waverly kissed her nose. 

“After that, I was relieved. Of course. But the most important thing? Was the fact that you were so supportive and accepting, and so willing to be on my side and face _whatever,_ together.”

Nicole searched Waverly’s eyes. “You know I see you as the strong one, right?” When Waverly started to duck her head with a sheepish smile, Nicole caught her chin with a finger and lifted it. “It’s true.” 

“Hmm,” hummed Waverly. “Later, when we were joking around during your bath, I was thinking about how even on the worst days, like...the _worst_ days, you can still make me laugh.” She trailed her fingers down the center of Nicole’s chest, then back up, marveling at their closeness, their comfort with each other.

“And now?” Nicole asked.

“Now…” Waverly began, then laughed. “Now, I don’t even know how to tell you.”

Nicole nodded. She traced a slow circle on Waverly’s back, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Will you show me?” she whispered.

Waverly kissed her properly then, and this time Nicole responded immediately, opening her mouth to Waverly, teasing with her tongue. Waverly lost herself in the softness and heat of it, an ache spreading through her body, urging her forward, her leg pushing more insistently between Nicole’s.

She rested her hand at Nicole’s waist, over her hip bone. Nicole’s shirt had ridden up as they kissed, and Waverly’s fingers moved lightly across the edge of her shorts, then higher, feeling Nicole’s abs flexing under her fingertips. Waverly hesitated, then slid her hand higher. Nicole’s skin felt almost burning-hot to her touch, and so smooth. 

Nicole broke away from their kiss to look down at Waverly’s hand moving under her shirt, tracking it upward until Waverly’s fingertips reached the soft swell of her breasts. Their eyes met and Nicole nodded slightly.

Waverly kissed her again, deeply, her tongue dipping inside, as her hand closed over Nicole’s breast. Her nipple was hard, and Waverly slid her fingertips over it, feeling the contrast, paying attention to how Nicole responded. She pinched lightly, and Nicole gasped her name. Waverly felt a tugging sensation deep inside her, felt arousal flood between her legs. She wondered if Nicole could tell, through her shorts. 

At Waverly’s hesitation, Nicole gave her a sweet, dimpled smile. “Is this okay?” she whispered.

Waverly nodded, biting her lip. Her hand was still on Nicole’s breast, and she rolled the nipple lightly between her thumb and forefinger again, watching as Nicole’s lips parted slightly in response, her eyes hooded and dark. 

“I’m getting so wet for you,” she whispered, as she slid her hand to Nicole’s other breast, pinching that nipple lightly too. “I can feel it.” 

At that, Nicole wrapped her arm around Waverly, and in one swift move, flipped them over so she was on top. Waverly gasped at the pure strength of it, and at the feel of Nicole’s weight settling on her, pinning her to the mattress. Nicole kissed her again, almost roughly, her hand running down Waverly’s side to the back of her thigh, urging Waverly to hook her leg around Nicole’s waist. The heat and pressure of it seared through Waverly, her hips rolling desperately under Nicole. 

“God, Nicole. I want you,” Waverly breathed. Her hands were still under Nicole’s shirt, trailing down her back then back up, fingernails scratching lightly.

Nicole rested her forehead against Waverly, and closed her eyes. “Are you sure? Because I want you more than anything. But I need you to be sure.”

“Nicole...I’ve never been more sure.” To drive home the point, she used the leg that was wrapped around Nicole’s waist to pull firmly against her, her hips rocking slowly. 

Nicole gasped and kissed her hungrily then, and Waverly tugged at the thin fabric of Nicole’s tank top, until Nicole got the hint and sat back on her heels to pull the shirt over her head. 

Waverly could hardly breathe for looking at her. Her eyes roamed eagerly over Nicole’s breasts, her milky skin. After a moment, Nicole tilted her head and said softly, “Take yours off too.” 

Waverly did, then lay back against the pillow again. “You’re so lovely,” Nicole said, running her palm from Waverly’s chest down the center of her body, down to her shorts, her fingers tracing the waistband, her light touch tickling the sensitive skin there. 

Nicole slid out of bed to stand next to the mattress, slid her shorts and underwear down, and kicked them over to where their tank tops were. Waverly’s shorts followed. 

“No underwear?” Nicole asked, looking surprised. 

Waverly shook her head. “Figured I wouldn’t need them tonight,” she said, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth. 

Nicole settled on top of her again, their lips crashing together. “So cocky,” she murmured into the kiss.

They spent a little more time just kissing, getting used to the feel of their naked bodies together, the gentle pressure of breasts and hips and thighs. Nicole’s hands began to wander, skimming down Waverly’s arms and bringing her hands up over her head to rest against the pillow. Her kisses tracked lower, as she licked and nibbled and sucked against Waverly’s jaw, the sensitive part of her neck, her collarbone. She took her time at Waverly’s breasts, teasing her nipples, tugging them gently with her teeth, and Waverly groaned.

Nicole paused and rested her forehead against Waverly’s chest. “God, Waverly,” she whispered, and the breathless way Nicole said her name sent another, deeper jolt of arousal through Waverly. “Every sound you make...you don’t know what you’re doing to me.” Nicole slid back up to kiss her, and settled more firmly between her legs, pressing her center against Waverly, who could feel the slick wetness spreading between them. Her fingers squeezed hard into Nicole’s thighs, urging her to move faster, press down harder.

“Nicole,” Waverly gasped. “I need your hand on me.” 

Nicole slid her hand between them, down Waverly’s sensitive stomach, down between her legs. Her fingers slipped over the wet heat there, and she paused, as if waiting for permission. 

“Inside,” said Waverly. “Please.” 

Nicole slid one finger inside, then at Waverly’s urging, another. They kissed deeply, messily, and Nicole began to move her hand, thrusting inside while her thumb slipped and slid over Waverly’s clit. Nicole was riding Waverly’s thigh, and she was so wet that Waverly wondered if she was even finding friction. She rocked her hips, pushing against Nicole, trying to build her up just as much as she was getting in return. Waverly's legs started to tremble just as she heard Nicole breathe her name, and they came together, gasping between kisses. Long tremors rolled through Waverly, and Nicole collapsed, heavy against her, their hearts pounding together against each other’s chests.

“Wow,” said Nicole after a moment. 

Waverly turned her head to look at Nicole, who had her face buried in the pillow. She giggled and brushed the auburn curls away from Nicole’s face, tucking the hair behind her ear. “That was amazing,” she said, and Nicole nodded, leaning forward to kiss her again. 

The fire was going strong still, flickering shadows against the walls. Through the thin sliver of the kitchen window that Waverly could see from where she lay, it was still snowing hard. 

Nicole’s skin was so hot against her own. Their legs were tangled together, the blankets long since kicked to the floor. Waverly could feel the wetness between both their legs still, the hard pounding of Nicole’s pulse. Waverly shifted her leg, and Nicole gasped at the movement.

“Come here,” Waverly whispered, tugging at Nicole. Nicole looked at her inquisitively, and shifted so she was laying half on top of Waverly. Her pupils were blown out with desire still, and her gaze flicked down to Waverly’s lips briefly. 

Nicole smiled, looking down at Waverly, but this time Waverly nudged at her shoulder gently and flipped them over. Nicole laughed. “Your turn to be on top?” she asked. 

Waverly kissed her. “Mmm,” she murmured. “Yes. But also...there’s something else I want to try.” She began to kiss her way down Nicole’s neck, down her chest, and lower still.

“Oh,” sighed Nicole, closing her eyes. “Anything you want, Waves.”

***

By sunrise, the snow had ended. Nicole and Waverly spent the morning sliding down a stretch of the mountainside on Waverly’s pink plastic sled while Frankie soared above them, ever-vigilant in case they scared up prey for her with all their commotion and laughter. 

Later, back at the homestead, they sat on the porch railing together, looking out over the field where the bright sun glittered across the snow. Frankie preened and fluffed her feathers nearby, content with her breakfast of mouse that Nicole and Waverly had generously let her keep.

Waverly told Nicole about her plans to bring some animals to the homestead in the springtime--the milking cow, and the chickens, if she could build a run where they’d be protected from the falcon.

“Waves, I love that!” said Nicole. “How cool would it be to have your own fresh eggs and milk every day?” 

“Yeah?” said Waverly, a smile brightening her face. “I should probably get the plumbing and electricity sorted out, too. You know, so I could have, like, a fridge and everything. And running water is super underrated.” 

Nicole laughed. “That would be nice, yeah.” 

“Which reminds me…” said Waverly. “If you start that ranger position, you’ll be up in the mountains more often, right?”

Nicole nodded. “Quite a bit. Maintaining the trails and everything.”

“Well…” Waverly took Nicole’s hand in her own, twining their fingers together. “I was thinking maybe you could stay up here a little more often.”

At Nicole’s raised eyebrows, Waverly continued in a rush, “I mean, whenever it works for you. Obviously. Like if you didn’t want to hike back down if it was getting late. You could still keep your house, of course. If you wanted to. You know, if you’re not ready to--”

Nicole interrupted her with a kiss, then broke away laughing. “You’re adorable. Yes, I would love to stay up here more often. Of course.” 

Waverly breathed out a sigh of relief. “Good. Great.” She paused. “The only catch is, well. When Wynonna gets back to Purgatory, I think she might need to stay here at the homestead too. You know, because of the ammolite, and everything. I want her to be protected.”

“You know,” Nicole said, leaning back against a post and pulling Waverly closer, “With everything I’ve learned about your family, I have a feeling Wynonna’s just misunderstood. I bet she and I will get along just fine.” 

Waverly just smiled, and kissed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! :) Connect with me on Twitter: @ksandrays


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